The Guardian

Closing my shades, and locking the door

My soul recedes back into solitude,

For the final eve of my life



The aurora, made me rise

Turned into shadows of high noon

From, the twilight’s beauty

Occurred, the blackness from the dead of night



High in a tree my falcon, resides

During the blossoming of the spring flowers

Throughout the sauna of summer

Among the foliage of fall

Then, enduring the ferocity of winter’s wrath



But, on this fateful day, a lone owl watched over me

Studying, me throughout the night and day

And brought a terrible madness,



In the stroke of my clock, the sky became gray

With a looming tempest, drawing towards my location

The Heavens ruptured, into tremendous ferocity

Forewarning of my final downfall



As the wind gusted

My Breaths drew short

As the rain fell

My lips drew, parched

When the thunder, crashed

My heartbeat grew soft

As the lighting, illuminated the sky

My eyes drew dim

As Death came for me



You might be a king or a little street sweeper, but sooner or later you dance with the reaper.