Comfort the souls

Comfort for the losses, the body's that rain. 
A never-ending cycle, a constant filled pain. 
Reapers are so busy, all the souls cry being lost. 
Once it all ends, living souls pay the cost.

Soothing for the seeds, their the ones to be sown.
Lives turned to figures, that become forever known. 
Worlds are spinning, it's a path for them all. 
The ones that survive, are tortured by the call. 

Support for the creator, or creatures that morn. 
Fate seems to pile, dead and the born. 
Streets run two places, present with past. 
Onlookers and doers, are each others outcast. 

Help the lost ones, weither with us or not. 
No longer shall memories, decay or rot. 
To bring a bright light, to darkness we see. 
Coming to terms, start a new journey.