Death

His eyes are like an endless darkness,
His face I see, an eerie likeness,
To what we once grew up fearing,
And what is now only nearing.

The life we live is nothing but,
A small spark, an unimportant rut,
For what we once were before,
Shall turn to darkness and nothing more.

On the darkest day he comes,
Takes us back by our thumbs,
Puts us back in our place,
No more needless taking up space.

His role is needed,
His call is heeded,
For we must return to once we came,
For we will never be again.

Ambigualos


Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Glacian, in the year 569 AF.