So swiftly did Death come by,
So as to not awaken the tired soul.
It crept slowly beside the slumbering body,
And into it’s mind it did go.

“Sleep dear weary walker,
Awaken not to a meager realm,
Sleep, mislead, evade your stalker
Be leader of your life’s helm.”

It seeped out of its host’s innocent fragile mind,
And marveled at the sight it could not help but behold.
The infant’s soul engulfed in a mist of shimmering calming
hues,
Took hold of Death and Death, for the first time, felt
cold.

“I do not wish to claim you dear innocent child.
Cling to the life you are yet to live.
Do not let me take you on this bleak spring night.
Fight for the gift so precious I cannot give!”

Death’s countenance never before showed any emotion,
But the child’s plight gave birth to a heart within,
And a melancholy expression soon formed,
Followed by transparent tears that acknowledged the awaiting
sin.

“Why am I charged with such a disgusting occupation?
Harvesting the souls of the wretched is an easy enough
deed,
But stealing the soul of an innocent infant child?
Release me, relieve me, free me, oh God, please take me!”

As if the grains of time finished flowing,
The poor creature gasped and took its last breath.
The reaper mournfully took its scythe in hand and raised it
overhead
And with one fell swoop collected the soul and accepted its
death.

“Oh the audacity of hope!
How easily do you give and take life away.
How heartless, how ruthless, how cruel!
Oh, how I wish you might grant me eternal death today!”

With that final proclamation, Death left the earthen plain,
And returned home to the dark labyrinth’s rim.
This story, this tale, eloquently explains just how
Death, the reaper, became known to be perpetually grim.