My conversation with Death.
I sat with Death, face to face
and queried why what is, must be.
“You summon sadness, fear and dread.”
‘Tis what you’ve taught yourself to see.
“You’re the end of all things good,
the final gasp, the end of days.
You laugh at birth and end all life.”
That’s not what I, but what you say.
“Give me then your words, not mine.
To souls like me, remove your bite.
You paint my sunsets dark with grief.”
Light is dark, and dark is light.
“But to what end do you demand
love to whither, hearts to rot?
You make decay of destiny.”
What isn’t is, what is, is not.
I turned my collar high and tight
against his icy, stinging breath.
“Enough of riddles. Tell me straight.”
Death is life, and life is death.