We are martyrs of deaths breath,  
       concussive retribution for living
in the light of decay.
Matter is a virus of consumption,
           exhausting the filaments
of extended fulfilment that will never
                                             be quenched.

But death is the saviour of existence,
      collecting on the overture of a
living rhythm, what sang to loudly
         now nullified beyond continuality.


The martyr did linger in disparity
       for life was a creation, but existence
is but greed. So let all ponder the
          expenditure of self and repercussions
of what existence brings to all.
             Death isn't an enemy,
its the saviour of existence.
Coalescing the need for continuity.