The Gentle Embrace of Death

They call me Death, but I'm the first breath, a final exhale.

I'm the setting sun on a weary trail. I'm not the sickness,

not the final gun. Just the silent shadow when the race is run.

I see 'em tremble like a winter leaf, stuck in the

moment of their final grief. They think I'm a thief, here to steal

the light, but I'm just the one who turns off the night.

I'm the river's flow at the ocean shore, guiding them to a place they've

waited for. This ain't a robbery. I'm not here to steal,