The Question

Death...he scares me,intriuges me,baffles me.

He comes everyday,no matter where,
no matter who.Today or tomorrow.
He knows not time.

Through the front door,through the back door,
quiet or with a bang,easy or hard.
Anyway he wants.

Dancing into our lives,spinning us around,
whirling,twriling...then he stops,and looks us,
right in the eye.

Staring into his black holes,
his icy breath chilling our bones,
the burning touch of his hand
on our shoulders.

Then without a word, death speaks,
and with a soft moan or a loud cry,
a tear in our eye,
we call to him
and question...WHY WHY?