In the lonely night
I drag myself through green shadows.
I walk the path where I see not the outcome
but only where it ends.
I carry my wounded body on tired legs,
my iron heart weighing me down,
as I watch black ground pass underneath me.
Retreating trees pull back their limbs
to reveal the end of an old path
and the beginning of a new one.
from behind the blossoming tree steps Death,
from under the cloak stretches a finger,
the bone points me in a new direction.
Under the closed cloak lies not one soul
but many of whom
I may or may not know.
My greetings are given with a light smile
the hand now points to me.
My broken body falls to the ground,
just another unknown traveler,
and as my eyes look to no sky,
the bone snaps.