Do not fear the cold touch,
Nor the fleshless extended hand,
Do not cling to life or pull too much
Lest it snap like a rubber band.
Do not shy from the cloak so dark,
Offering protection from the bitter breeze,
Concealing from the night’s howl and bark,
Fear not the whistles in the trees.
No dread or caution need you feel
In the presence of the scythe’s blade,
The only use of the cadaverous steel
Is in the defence of the long decayed.
Be not afraid of the blackened hood
That shadows the mysterious face,
Though be wary of the flecks of blood
Staining the hands of the mortal race.
The tongues cursed with betrayal entwined,
The hunger for wealth and greed aligned,
The will to savage their own mankind,
Leaving all justice and love behind.
The phantom that dwells in the murky gloom,
Waiting silent to wield spiritual powers,
Watching us sentence our world to doom,
Death is no enemy of ours.