A colossal crow stands on the man's left.

Its feathers, as dark as the night sky.

It stands tall, far taller than anything else.

Its eye bore into the man, 

as if looking for the reason behind its existence. 

The man's skin is of a similar shade to the crow.

White veins circulate through his head, 

pulling downward to attach to a set of feathers.

A darkened halo stands firm above the man.

He stares into the crow, pondering the same question.

The wrapped cadaver is pale and ghastly.

Only its face and feet are visible below the wrappings. 

Life is born from the remains.

A plant reaching high into the sky,

in the hopes that it will live a long life. 

The cycle of life, death, and rebirth is strange;

as two of the three rely on the other.

While the last pursues its own goals.

Without fail this is the cycle that all beings go through,

one cannot escape, nothing will prevent this fate.