The Moonlight Sonata (Death's Violin)

As the last threads,

break,

rip,

tear from my soul.

Stealing from me this life we call 'humanity'.

The last rasping melodies of our realm echo,

echo in my deaf ears,

as the last noise of the mundane,

the ordinary.

The mortal.

The sweetest of melodies greet me,

on this moonlit night.

The sound of an angel,

playing,

as if with an orchestral number of heavenly beings.

This moonlight sonata,

upon my soul has left it's mark.

I have been granted safe passage way,

as I make my way through the valley of shadow.

Death's Violin,

the last noise the dead shall hear.

This minstrel deva's last tear,

for the dearly departed.