Who harvests souls?
117 06/10/2016
Humans are like caterpillars,
It’s their souls they desire,
So bright, so blue,
That’s all they aspire.
Who reaps our souls,
And what’s their grand design?
Where is that gardener,
Who treasures butterflies divine?
Could this be the purpose,
Of breathing life into our race?
Are malevolent beings stoking,
The flames of strong souls’ embrace?
Will we not become mere fuel,
For some dark, distant flight?
Or perhaps in the afterlife,
Find purpose, shining bright?
