The Angel Of Death

She waits in shadows on edges of life
Her scythe to gather souls at rest beside.
Angel of death, how we resist her knife.
Yet 'tis her hand which guides our spirit ride.

The whispers silent, darkened wings take flight
A revelation's peace now found in fear.
She leads the spirit out of blinding sight
Where songs are sung that ears will never hear.

Upon the naked fields where spirits still lie
The wisdom of Ancients passed among the stone.
She waits, we wander blindly passing by
She knows one day we will see and atone.

We mortals are nothing but dust on Earth,
Life is a mere flash in the breath of time.
A spark amid a burning flame since birth,
She knows with grace our fires will seek to glow.

In triumph she sails to glorious lands
As breaths of freedom release the tired soul,
And once we meet the Elysium sands
The time of flight as the spirit comes whole.

Blessed Be!

© Jem Farmer, All rights reserved