In shadow’s shroud, a figure drew so near,
No light escaped its form, so dark and stark.
Its features blurred, a countenance to fear,
But Death’s true nature, not grim, began to mark.

“You’ve come for me?” I asked, my voice betrayed,
Though courage I displayed, my fear still reigned.
“I’m always present,” Reaper softly said,
“Death’s not to blame for death, ’tis life’s refrain.”

Tranquility washed over me in waves,
As Reaper’s words brought comfort to my soul.
The journey’s end, the ultimate of graves,
Embrace of satisfaction made me whole.

Hand in hand with Reaper, warm and soft,
I exhaled all the worldly, frail and oft.