She met him cloaked in night’s deep shade,
A whisper wrapped in dark cascade.
Her voice a plea, a soft lament,
“Grant me time that’s not yet spent.
“I’ve songs unsung, and fields to sow,
Dreams unspun, and hearts to know.
Hold back the tide, just for a breath—
Leave me longer yet, dear Death.”
He answered low, as shadows bind,
In tones that shivered leaf and rind,
“All things must end, both flesh and flame;
Life’s spark and glow are much the same.
“The stars, too, burn and fade away,
And rivers cease their winding sway.
The oak that towers, proud and high,
Must bow to earth, as all things die.”
She bowed her head, her hope unwound,
Her voice a murmur, soft and sound.
“Then lead me well,” she breathed, resigned,
“For I shall go, as all must bind.”
And Death, with sorrowed, timeless grace,
Held her hand in cold embrace.
“For every soul, a night will fall—
Yet in that dark, I hold them all.”
2024 ©️
The Royal Octopus 