Creeping Death
© Keaton Foster
As the wind blows through the wild oaks.
They creep and crackle in an oddly timed rhythm.
The leaves they fall to the ground below.
They are quickly swept away by the passing flow of heavens tears.
The sky roars and thunders in madness.
Rain pours down in drops of hatred.
It stings my flesh with its bitter coldness.
The tears of heaven are but only a sign in a symphony of many to come.
Nearby the raven flickers its yellow eyes at me.
The moon cast a shadow from which I cannot hide.
My time has been short in a lifetime of hell.
My destination awaits wherever it shall be.
My supposive master beckons, he sends his henchmen.
Dressed in the blackness of night.
His blade is curved and stingingly sharp.
He answers to but only one name.
Death!
The Earth spins in a constant state of pull.
Clearly shining in the twilight of a different time.
The darkness prevails as the nightly season changes once more.
Rock and earth move beneath my weary feet.
Heavens dark sky's rotate around me.
I am dizzy from the motion of my own existence.
I am sickened beyond all repair.
I am all of you in a vast sea of no ones.
I am young.
I am old.
I am life.
Now, I am most certainly dead.
I feel no joy, happiness or love.
I have no sorrow, sadness or hate.
I am nothing, same as before.
I am beyond all that you have explored.
I am a shadow cast in the pitch black night.
I am all to some and nothing to many.
For my time has come to its end.
I have faced death and lost willingly.
I have embraced its sweet disguise.
I have left the mortal earth far behind.
My soul has moved beyond all its pain.
I have gone to the house of kings.
There I sit, teeter tottering on the edge of an abyss.
All around me is heaven, a strangers paradise.
All below me is hell, an oh so familiar place.
I will sit here for awhile, enjoying this strangers paradise.