Oh, What of My Death? My Death, He Will Forever Live - Experimental

Death will always...

Death, he lives �" and of Life? Life dies.

The Ten, in mine and the next plane, be, breath hot with a veritable bath of flame, 

regarding all but naught.

Thine keys, given unto them, hold the power to rot

the cosmos from inside to out, 

and from within thine own belly.

Aware of thy heat of truth and thy murderous fury, 

the angel of War inhales the smog of those things’ passed, 

wing beating, flapping on the blast;

Even the God of gods will come to an untimely end,
but Lord Death, his track will ne'er bend.

War breathes out the pungent, malodorous fumes of gore, 

to devastate, to die, to become greater than us, forevermore.

And the moment the angel, he who gazed upon the Ten, 

turned to War’s catalyst, thine deathly siege will begin.

But, like many to come after and before he, 

Heaven’s warrior fell, cascading into nothing more than mythology.

For, and because, the Ten’s grasp on reality is a tight hold indeed, 

the Onlookers shall never be released, never be freed.

Death, he lives �" and of Life? Life dies.

Author's Note

I switch back and forth from Middle-English purposely. I only use it at a part where I feel its effect is necessary.