Death was a mysterious thing.

You always knew to expect it

but when it came for you,

it was never quite accepted.

So when the red woman came for me,

Her way one of life.

I decided to feel her presence,

Wether or not the time was right.

She strode past the bloody green,

I didn’t move an inch.

Her face was hidden in a cloak,

I haven’t forgotten since.

When she reached my figure,

The bloody path beneath.

I took her hand half willing.

Death was a stunning thief.

You should seem to know,

I am indeed alive

Death is not the end,

It’s nearly a path to light.