John and Death

         I stand here at the feet of my love. She does not hear me, nor does she see me. Blessed, am I, that her eyes are closed to the shadow of night and day. Her name, long ago was forgotten, but is now on my tongue. “Death,” said I, John. She turns in her bed, still covered by the mist of sleep and the silken blanket of drowsiness sleep often brings. “Death,” call I again. She responds not as I gaze softly upon her face with pity, for long has her face been despised by man and his kind alike.
         I draw closer to her. I kneel beside her. My hand caresses her soft, smooth face. Open, did her eyes quickly, to my soft and gentle touch.
         “You have returned my dear,” Death, with tired rejoice in her voice, speaks to me.
         “Aye my love, I have returned to you by the cover of night.” Death smiles at me as her cold, pale, slender fingers grasp mine. “Long have I waited to lay my eyes upon you.” My hands grasp her hands, and smile do I at her tempting and malevolent beauty.
         “Where did you go my love,” asks Death to I.
         “Away my dear, I went away.” A single tear falls down my cheek as I look into Death's cold, soft black eyes. Death wipes the tears from my cheek, and weep did I. She caresses me in her arms.
         “My love, why is it that you weep?”
         “I weep, for in past I have longed to be with you, and now I am bound to you for all eternity.” There on the bed lies Death in all her splendor and beauty. Death comforts me with her soft, cold touch. My tears stop as I feel Death's hands wipe the tears from my face.
         I spoke, speak, and will speak of Death. Death and I have long been acquainted. Pain, in the past, she has brought upon me. Now, though, I cannot remember those pains of old. Embraced, have I, Death's soft grip on life. How can man fear such a face, such a tender touch, and such a voice? Oh, that voice! How tender, how mild, and yet how deafening in the awe of man's war.
         Respect and fear, Death receives from man. Most of it, though, is fear. Yea, and though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I shall fear no Evil. The Light of Day is my comfort, and Death is only the beginning...