Long shadowy figures glide slowly over ground <br />The place called L'mour de mort <br />Welcomes all around <br /> <br />These beings, the lovers of the darkened world <br />Seek their own, their own rancor <br />From life, from death unfurled <br /> <br />Trembling hands of bony spurs reach out to hold <br />The 'Fleshlings' from the upper world <br />A life from them cajoled <br /> <br />The mortal pass is handed out to anyone with thirst <br />A treasured prize of sin begins <br />The fairest taken first <br /> <br />From whence they come these evil shells, a hollow living hell <br />Death for them we know not what <br />The likeness we dispel <br /> <br />A still air moves, a coldness creeps, a holler at the moon <br />The bone brigade has made their way <br />To houses hillside strewn <br /> <br />And one by one they creep inside past walls and lock and door <br />The sleeping silent people <br />Rouse briefly before the 'mort' <br /> <br />Their bodies still, died in their sleep, a funeral for flesh <br />The underneath, the other side <br />Lie death and death enmeshed<br /><br />Keith Parsons<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-love-of-death/
