Halls of the Dark Muse

The Souls of the Dead

Where do we go
we weary souls
who fear not the shadows
and smile in comradery
with death.

How the light
shuns from us
but at this we only
laugh.

For we despair not
at the unknown
nor turn away
from exploration
into those dark places.

We souls
that tremble not
before forces
unseen.

We who are not
the ghosts others fear
nor are we the dead
but live somewhere
in between.

Seated before
the throne of Hades
bowing to the gods
of the dead.

We are not seekers
of death
not the disinherited
from life
not the despairing
nor the lost.

But those who
look death in the eye
with neither
terror nor longing
but fascination
as questers for the truth
and balance.

Death loves life
in Death's own way
seek not in death
an enemy.

He but guides the way
a dark light
offering life's
greatest gift.

For what value
would life hold
if He was not it's guardian
waiting in the shadows.

And we are the souls
who walk among graves
in quiet serenity
as we imagine our own.