Mortem Amare

In the dance of mortem and amare, love and death intertwine.

Beneath the moon’s pale gaze, two shadows twist and bind.

A rose wilts in the frost, its petals kissed by night.

Yet still it blooms in memory, where passion’s fire burns bright.

For what is life without any ending?—a hollow dream.

The hourglass of time spills sands that gleam.

All things cloaked in nectar wouldn’t be sweet,

Without our tongues stained in gall—the bitter taste complete.

A raven soars above, its wings a shroud of grief.

Yet lovers find in sorrow a fleeting, strange relief.

All things bright wouldn’t sparkle without the nightfall’s shadow.

For love blooms best when threatened by the cold of tomorrow.

When lovers quarrel close at hand, their hearts clash with all their might.

Yet distance makes them fonder still and softens every fight.

In the dance of mortem and amare, love and death entwine.

Like the thorn and the flower, forever side by side, divine.

 By :Modoyini Peter