An Elegy for the Living

Life’s terrain concedes one obtrusive difference –
A cemetery chasing shadows of an erstwhile pasture.
I had begun to dig a grave to bury the King.
Today, it lies amidst the vestiges of a hundred carcasses,
Empty.
He walks the earth with an unsullied spirit,
They walk the road to perdition – oblivious.

Murdered sans consequence,
Sans remorse, without a whimper.
Victims of their own apathy,
Victims of my wrath.
Renegades die many times before their death;
A partisan never tastes of death but once.

The end of another year;
The ends of another yearn.
I canonize their life through my lament;
I make them martyrs through my elegy.

Today, I pray that my Elysium shall not be theirs’.

Fare well.