segunda-feira, 3 de março de 2014

Between the centuries

Luxury high in wigs and chandelliers
Wooden floors near noble Lake shores
No labour or wages to earn
Smiles of glee for the nobles faces, to the plebe hard and stern

They hardly had to snob behind their gargoyled brickwalls
great theatres that peasants payed for with their work and taxes
Basements full of bright lights and half the village's servants
Entertainment for the lords and ladies brave spirits as cold as the gargoyles

On the high wall a young man met death
His noble approach was laughed out of his body by death
the young man thought it was simply the numbing cold
As death shook his hand and snow fell

The boy changed after he touched death
Instead of dying he could travel
Not just roaming the land but traveling through time as he went
Perhaps the scariest thing he saw was how death transformed things

Death transformed people
The boy saw how a living man would not resemble his spirit at all
As death and the mirror death carried would show
Sometimes our spirits are beautiful and sometimes they are ugly

Yet the spirit looks nothing like the body
And  death claimed that this world is nothing more than an old wardrobe

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