Grin Of Grim

 

I like to think of Death as a clever old fool, 

A hooded man who has seen it all.

Only he knows how men can achieve greatness;

But plays no hand in their rise or fall.

 

Every emotion carries with it energy,

Infinite journeys took away death's tears.

But no energy found in man is stronger,

 Than the one intertwined with fear.

 

Three dark knocks on my door were answered, 

With a peculiar expression on his face.

Sat down on my oldest wooden chair,

And began to whisper gently with haste.

 

Stunned by the fact I lacked panic,

Horror struck my mind with disbelief. 

Not because he decided to pay a visit,

But because I would beg of him not to leave.

 

"Fear not the presence of myself”, he exclaimed

"Your time is still ticking with me,

I just came to see an old friend.", he chuckled

"To check if his soul is still free"

 

"I'll share with you a secret;

Speak not of what I say.

It is up to you to determine,

And use these words to guide your way."

 

"Mankind is unique yet ironic."

He reached in his satchel and grabbed a blade 

"If you only knew how many lives you've lived;

You'd have no choice but to go insane."

 

He grabbed my hand, and cut my palm;

A drop of blood trickled down his blade.

The Grin of Grim so graciously grew,

But quickly slid back into his hood’s shade.

 

"Your heart is no stranger to pain 

and will endure more in the days to come.

Your mind holds within it such greatness,

But your heart only lets you see some.

 

A dark night in your tomorrows awaits you,

a split path bearing to both east and west.

Time will cease to be in your favor,

Fear flowing in and out of your breath

 

 

Just know both roads lead to happiness, 

One is wealth and the other love.

Countless have died in the hopes to taste both, 

But the heart can only handle one. 

 

The path you will take I know well of,

I've seen your heart guide your mind in the past.

I see the war you keep deep within you,

I see your fear that it will fail to pass.

 

Just know old friend that you've been here,

Each discussion more gripping than the last.

Each life you live is a challenge,

To see how much soul, your soul has.

 

All these poor men pass you;

poor of knowledge, life, and love.

And yet their mishaps astound you,

building doubt of what's above.

 

Your every life, I come and visit,

Same heart, different time, different place.

You're never surprised to see me, 

And yet all your past thoughts are erased.

 

Your soul gets wiser by the century,

In darkness you still like to sing.

Oh what joy Death encounters,

When a humble man becomes king.

 

-Matthew Vain