Alas, said the ghost of death, you see,
Naked of your gods, you all come to me.
In sprints you rise and in sprints you fall,
The life of man shall cease at dawn.
And from your death you rise again
To stand weary in the world of men.
I pray you see there is no scope
For you to seal your fait with rope.
For glory, many battles you pursue;
For your names in stone to be made true.
Although your life you can’t sustain,
What rose a man shall fall again.
Before you, I shall bring but peace,
In times when life for you will cease.
But wonder now upon your grave,
Isn’t this what man has made?