Marble Sarcophagus

Intricately carved and shaped-
only to be hidden and shrouded
by death and grief,
hidden from a thief.

But for such morbidity
comes delicate beauty.
Dionysus, in his grape-vines,
triumphant, with fans:

Four Seasons - Spring and Summer,
youths not women, Fall and Winter.
Commissioned with meaning,
purpose or greed? Gleaming,

in marble cast, is death
such a party? Triumphant path
of the God of madness
and the passing Seasons?

Knowing our fates, have we built
or prepared for them? Guilt
or joy - in that pleasant morbidity.
We are nothing but frailty.

Love, passion, indulgence,
anger textured with patience.
That is the fleeting life we fret away
fretting over death's eternal stay.