Death is a night-time creature.
Untamed
yet silent and patient.
It keeps to itself as it shies away
from the garish light and lurks in shadow.
In the darkest corner,
the beast’s pale eyes
leer;
a pair of crescent moons at dawn.
Then when Night puts on his
black fedora hat
adorned with one pearl brooch
and a thick
velvet mantle sprinkled with
thousands of millions of polished diamonds.
He begins his walk
around the earth.
The beast, Death, leaps out.
Pale as ice bathed in
moonlight,
but without the smiling glitter.

It begins to search for frail
shivering souls
unable to stand the burden of life.
Every breath weighs them down as if
the sky was collapsing.
Death devours their last
breaths.
Every pulse of blood pains so much as if
fire was flowing instead.
Death quaffs their
hot, sticky blood, like fresh wine.
Sweet as sin.
Dark as night.
After the feast, the beast’s howls
are carried by the
winds.
Tainted with the odor of age-old bone.

Finally, when Day awakes from her
slumber,
she walks out in her night-gown.
Frilled with fluffy clouds like valentine lace,
fine and wispy and soft.
Her skin is a pale blue today,
brushed with mother-of-pearl
with the same
swirling turquoise, azure,
and the pink luring in a fragrant jasmine.
She hums to herself as
Night moans
and dejectedly slumps away.

The burning rays of light outshines
Death’s ice-white fur
and the beast darts off to
find some shelter or haven in the cool
welcoming shadows
again.