He will come for you one day;
death will.
you can run
and you can hide,
but he will find you.
when?
I can’t make any guarantees.
but…
the real question…
what is death?

Is he fear?
fear of the unknown;
of the inevitable?
is he loss?
echoed sobs and life’s thin fabric;
ripped and torn away far too soon?
is he a heartless being?
a skeletal body swathed in black
with a scythe clenched in his fists?
what is death?
you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Death does not bring with him fear;
he eradicates it.
erasing nightmares
and reflating air-deprived lungs.
death is not loss.
he is freedom;
souls cradled in arms;
loosened and set free.
death is not a black clad skeleton;
he is you.
he is us.
death is…