Chapter 37
Cold
Forgetting Sylva
Slowly, my dear, down this path we walk.
Death is cold;
We do not balk.
Death is death
And nothing more.
Slowly, my dear, down this path we walk.
The way is far, but near, my dear.
Death is truth;
Nothing to fear.
Death is death
And nothing less.
The way is far, but near, my dear.
My dear, the way is harsh, but soft.
Death is near;
Holds you aloft.
Death is death
And nothing else.
My dear, the way is harsh, but soft.
Far, my dear, we must go.
This path is long;
No time to slow.
Death is death
And nothing new.
Far, my dear, from me to you.