Death...

Who is this death
Could he be young or old
A monster or a charmer,
Cloaked in black,

With a loud evil groan

He has no right or wrong 

No young or old

Nor weak or might

He is busy as ever 

From morning till night

He knows no happiness

No joy has he tasted

No life has he spared

No cry has been heard

No plea has been bargained

When does he strike

Whom does he choose

No one can stop his coming

Some see him as a blessing

Most see him as a curse

He has no starting

He has no ending

Known to man before time

At times he ends a beginning 

And often begins the ending

I see him as an innocent little child

Who will walk to me one night

And take away the pain

Wash away the tears

And lead me into the light.