The Passing

Death is a breath that separates body from soul.
Birth is a breath that unites body and soul.
All breaths in between exist in a state of suspended incarnation
And wondering;
Once born, when to die.

The horizon is a line at the base of the sky.
It waxes at dawn
And wanes at dusk.
Like the fleeting Muse of Life,
The Angel of Death is never lonely.

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L. Midnight

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