Death
I cry her name and she comes to me slowly,
She takes my pain as I cry her name and makes me want to see.
I lift my hands to praise her name and she blesses me slowly,
She takes my heart and fuels my art and and makes me want to be.
By blade, by fire, by hand, and by heart
she comes and comes and takes all in her soft way ...
... she is death and I am her servant.
Originally appeared 2003-03-03.