The Ouruboros

They say that death is but a birth
If so, why is it shunned by all?
A seaman does not shun a berth,
A baby does not shun its caul.
Nothing that nature gives to youth
Is half as cold as age’s hand.
Nothing that’s rude is so uncouth,
As ruins nude upon the land.
Only one creature knows for sure
Whether to die is being born,
It's not the Phoenix, not the boar,
Not Salamand’ nor Unicorn.
One memory isn't seared by flame,
One mind in Earth does not expire,
One mind escapes the Tombstone's fame,
The drowning or the burning pyre.
The Ouruboros knows the truth,
Sages of old have laid it down,
It cycles back from age to youth,
From King to Prince, from Prince to Crown,
But oh, the irony and pique
Suffered by those who seek its lore
Its mouth is clamped it cannot speak
Its tail is fixed within its jaw.