Death Is Never More Beautiful

© 2012 by Mit Maras

In unwavering reverence,

We watch as she dances,

Hues of autumn adorn her ever reaching branches.

With a natural pluck,

Each canvas spirals down,

Until nothing but death now blankets the ground.

For so long we have sought,

The solitude of her darkest places,

Forced from shadows we now bare our own faces.