We all live with a mystical sword dangling
above our heads
It exists within the depths of the darkness of
our shadow
It haunts our dreams, triggers terror in our
heart
and falls, kills, slays when we expect
not
sending us into a deep slumber for all eternity
Such is the cruelty of the most mysterious
mistress
She is lady death, whose allure is as baffling
as it is terrifying
However, her existence serves a far greater
purpose
Than laying people in their graves
She represents the uncertainty of the end
I know now, that she can take anyone, anytime
Our clock moves backwards, rather than forward
Limited time to achieve undying greatness
the greatest mystery lies in not knowing when
the greatest challenge lies in figuring out how
the greatest labour in going out and actually
doing it
Like all sane men that roam, I fear death
But it is not the idea of the end that unnerves
me
It is my qualm of meeting it with
Unfinished business staining my agenda
So I ask myself, if I were to die
tomorrow,
will my mind be burdened with regret
will my heart be tarnished by hatred
will my soul be intoxicated with shame
If your clock were to run out tomorrow
Will your life truly have been complete?
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