How often have we yearned to see the dead
Restored to breathing, loving life again?
Through every mourning, bereaved, conscious head
A dream like this has passed, and dulled death's pain
But what if they returned from death, made new?
Themselves in body, but with strangers' souls?
The horror of this chance, myth makers knew
When first we witnessed death, and made our roles
In the departed world make some small sense;
It could be that the undead frighten us
Because they show that when the mind flees hence
Mere matter remains: a mouth to discuss
Subjects foreign, or gnaw on the living
Old forms, with new minds the orders giving
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.