Death, part five.

V. Christmas

The world spins,
death has come
and it is the third day.
I've seen the mountains
and I've felt the Sun.
I've seen the bleak grass
and I've felt the thick fog.
Nothing ever goes as planned,
be it for a spiteful God
in the heart of old and angry souls,
be it for the foul filth of life
that raging swallows me,
be it for the mirth and breeze
that come with breathing life.

My heart is lighter
and aches like my fragile flesh.
Elven smiles and sweeter words,
feeling like there's more to say.