Death

Can you guess from which “fairy tale” this particular poem is based?

I’m a simple creature,
using simple words,
having simple needs.
I do my job
and I do it well,
with passion and vigor.
My existence is a lonely one,
filled with empty days
and empty carcasses.
Most souls pass through
my memory, like a cloud floating
through a summer sky of blue.
The cloud has no name and no
face to put with its namelessness.
But there were once three,
yes three, brothers who struck
a chord of my memory’s forte.
They were powerful beings,
weighted down with a magic
more noble than even the jungle’s king.
One was strong with arrogance
and revenge, seeking nothing
but the power he could not see
in himself.
The second’s heart overflowed
with sorrow, spilling out in waves
of desperation. He sought control.
The youngest brother, with wisdom
exceeding his years, caught me
in a deathly snare I could not help
but admire.
I retrieved the older two
in a timely fashion,
scooping them up like gold fish in a tank.
The third remained a mystery
worthy of Sherlock Holmes
and his band of merry men.
In due course he revealed himself
like a lighthouse’s beam,
sudden and not easily overlooked.
We parted the living as equal
beings of what once thrived
in this place so destroyed
by Life.
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