Death,

The word has lost all meaning,

Objective to a few,

They say it holds power,

Yet there is none more than fact,

A single fact held for records,

A placement in a card,

Empty in our minds,

Death is not compelling,

Viewed as dark and grim,

Emotion surpasses attendance,

Light, with arid glum,

We still yet hold the names,

No light is yet to come,

We miss their memory,

Shiver upon their empty quiver,

No arrows left to fly,

Bow sits empty,