Life, with fingers of light, holds a tight grip on all
Death\'s dark breath hides in the shadows of the fall
Sun turns his face, in disgrace, covering his ears to a siren song
A winter call in night\'s shawl, a shade to take me along
Thanatos, gentle be when you take me on that journey back home
Night is cold and stabs through shirt fold, as a dagger of gloam
Nothing said but with nod of head, motioning the way
A wish to delay but one more day, but the shade his course would not stay
Barefoot over cold stone, past graves once known wanderers in the dark
He set his way toward the end of day, to my voice he would not hark
In musty air that did share the wilted odor of once youthful blooms
Petals that fell, whisper stories that tell, of past, echoing in empty tombs
As a child did pray, then on a pillow did lay my head as in dreams I ran
When from butterfly visions I awoke in night\'s cloak I had the gray hairs of an old man