He knocks on my door at the break of dawn,

An uninvited guest, a shadow drawn.

Riding a cloud as black as coal,

With a beard of night and a sly grin’s toll.

We all know his purpose clear,

But none expected him to appear.

He knocks again, a thunderous sound,

Nearby ravens flee, fear unbound.

The silence grows, a piercing shriek,

Outside, death’s presence, grim and bleak.

Creeping, peeking through window’s glare,

As we all watch with weary stare.

Suspicion falls on the old, the frail,

Yet in truth, none can prevail.

For anyone may be his mark,

Death’s cold hand, silent and stark.

The rich, the sick, the young, the fair,

He takes them all, none to spare.

No standard, race, or favored face,

So fair is his unfair embrace.

As pure as a babe in its mother’s arms,

He judges not, brings no alarms.

Just an angelic harbinger’s quest,

To return lost children to their rest.

When he claims you, earth’s womb will rend,

Stripped bare, the final end.

Within the dark, you’ll find your place,

Surrounded by night’s cold embrace.

Your faith, your comfort in the gloom,

Heaven, hell, or empty tomb.

But fate we all share, this is true,

Death comes for all, for me, for you.