Darkness coming, on the prowl,
pitch-black tendrils trailing down.
Thick and full, the landscape’s cowl,
coalescing into Death’s dark gown.
He gestured gently with skeletal hand,
a horseman of eternity
When my hourglass had lost its sand,
and gone was life’s ability.
Advancing slowly he reached toward me,
ancient skull ‘neath ebony hood;
grabbing hold, he turned and took me
to a place misunderstood.
And with that came an understanding—
something not quite wrong or right.
To slake my latent fears’ demanding
he showed a distant, calming light.
So by his side I had no fear
There truly was no need.
Death visits all without a tear
Atop his great pale steed.