A/N: Poems into Stories Competition, Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, William Shakespeare.
A Larger Poetry Collection
176. Never Escape Death
No being is ever beyond death. Hallows and Hocruxes, elixirs
that plead eternal life, all are the foolish illusions the old bask within
to think they grow no older, for still young they are
when the weariness of life has not seeped into their bones
But even if they tied their flimsy cotton wool souls
down with the strongest glue and iron chains, their bodies
would be worn down, erode and rust like the iron, burn like the eart,
evaporate like the sea.
If that endless sea is not except from death
how can a mere human being think
themselves to be?