I travelled a long way from behind the snowy alps
To the portals of Death in Milano
Where poets sang their final songs
Where sculptors carved their final words
Where martyrs shed their last drops of blood
Where Politicians gave their last great speeches
Where everyone else gave their corpse, ashes and bones
Here is also where
Art gave beauty to Death
And Death gave Art power.
Art, beauty, Death and power
They meet in the consciousness
They are in part, consciousness
Inside and outside
They are symbols and form,
Frozen in time, encrypted as formations,
Encoded structures that one can reveal
Many things that ignorance concealed,
Messages that Death clearly indicated
Of its Nature and ways,
Which no man except the Perfected One,
Can over ride.
Hear, hear! Come and see, don’t miss the show!
Here, now, Death is the poet, the singer,
The artist, the actor and the story teller,
The author, the musician and the preacher.
When life is sweet, Death is bitter,
When life is painful, death a relief,
Take both together and you have a cycle,
Transcend both and be free,
Life is indeed Death disguised.