A Sacred Truth

For what it is, that I am,
For what I was, it was all dead,
Love and life that I desired,
A little bit of beauty and lust,
Who would have known,
For they were all, but,
The children of the darkness,
For who I am, I am death, for,
What I loved was a bit of life,
Shadow of the circle, that it is,
It never ends, like the sorrow,
Of a broken heart, which I had,
No more I would say,
God of life, once I was, but,
My past was not of life,
Life, ever growing as it is, but,
A curse for one who understands,
As I had, for I am the God of it,
Like a weight upon the scales,
It remains no matter what,
What is left is but a betterment,
Of past and present, worthless,
When it is too much of it,
For what it was, that I have become,
That I am a god of death,
The circle is broken,
So is the shadow,
For now, nothing’s eternal,
The life is celebrated,
At last, it was death,
That gave life its purpose,
For what it was, that I was,
For what it is, that I have become.