Death’s Stare

When I look forward

I see the eyes of death pierce down

The narrowing stretch between I and he;

His mouth drooling as the scent of my anxiety

Touches his foul nostrils.


I am paralyzed with the eternal presence of his stare:

Where is the meaning if all we can do is wait?

But as I look down, the skull is not yet in my hands,

And my breath is still firmly in my lungs.


As the intensity grows too infinite,

I turn, using all the reason in my body

And face the fertile past:

My birth, my victories and my losses.

I smile,

As the hearth of my heart

Rekindles once more with the warmth of life.


I know, Death’s stare will never be the same again.