I Am Death

Walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death
I fall to my knees to take my last breath
Before me appears a figure in black
A scythe and a sword strapped across his back
Only darkness exists where a face should be
Only blackness that has been for eternity
A hand reaches out, a hand made of bone
And a voice in my head says it's time to go home
I take the hand of doom in my own
And awake in a bed carved from ancient black stone
In the center a book, inside are me deeds
From beginning to end my life's entire story
The only light comes from torches on the walls
And at the end of the room lay a blackened hall
I follow the hall to a room with a throne
An ancient white chair, made entirely of bone
I look at my hands, only bones meet my gaze
From the black walls around me comes an eerie haze
I want to be frightened, I want to scream
But silence, no sound, is this all a dream
No emotion inside me, I feel no drawing of breath
A voice in my head tells me ‘Now I am Death'
Now I am summoned when the bell of death tolls
Now I am the Grim Reaper, collector of souls

by Tim Vallie

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