Silent and grave,it all seems
To be the end
The sword ceremoniously lifted
Cold,true but still a friend.
Still,very still is everything
Even the flame of the candle does not flicker
Strange...his heart is still
As he transforms into a healer.

The eyes betray nothing
Nothing does his countenance give
Of the worlds turning within
And of the years past that he now in an instant relives.
Quiet,very quiet is everything
Even the voices in his head have ceased
To talk to him,to help him be
As he gets ready to be released.

In one smooth move he enters himself
Dislodging a few strands of hair
A face of calm changes to something else
As he gives it all up with a prayer.
The white satin stained ,raped
Red -all there is to see is Red
The Man -dead like a Moslem looking towards Mecca
For his honour,this becomes his deathbed.