On the funeral day, I was dressed to the black.
With grieving souls weeping, just at my back.
I began to recall my sweet memory,
Of the times I had spent with the one buried deep.
It was there in the shadows that I had a seen,
A hooded cloaked figure, who was ghoulishly lean.
I was frozen at first, caught by this sublime,
Neither frightened nor joyous, by this grievous find.
With him he brought, a presence so raw.
With chills down my spine, I stood there in awe.

Then in that moment, I felt a warm light.
I turned to be blinded, by passion so bright.
Within those moments I had spent blind
I relived those feelings, I had left behind.
And when that light went on its way,
A gentle wind, began to sway.
As the air danced, eloquently on my cheek,
I marched up to death, and wagered a meet.
I asked him a question, he did seem surprised.
I asked for the purpose of why people died.
The reply that he gave me, I'll never forget.
With the lesson he told, I am in his debt.

"The leaves do fall, in Autmun's wake,
But her guiding winds, do plant Spring's seeds.
I must be off, return to life and go on with your sake,
But when you go do remember, That through death life succeeds."