Death Has Honour

They fly
They fly everywhere
They fly together
They seek
They seek on air
A duty lasting forever

Each one comes to the entity
Every feathered figure of ebony
Looks upon a figure so simple
He is shadow-like
Seen with only one cloth surrounding his frame
Which stays the same
He kneels down and offers his hand

The one among many lets his vision be shared
Making his master fully aware
Of the time yet to come
To which any could only succumb
The two seem to be one
And are gone as if they run

The shadow sees that for which he travelled
‘Twas a soul that had lost his long battle
And so the shadow reveals his walking stick
Topped with a curved blade
The hands, dead but not decaying
Grip tightly and he runs the blade
Through the figure
‘Tis not blood for which he wades
For the blade gleams with energy that quickly vanishes

Having for which he travelled
He looks to his companion
He waves his free hand toward the figure
As if ‘twas the trigger
The small shadow then approaches
And begins to pick as if searching
For another answer

The large shadow departs
To repeat the process
As if he is obsessed
‘Tis his purpose
And he does it with honour