Stephen Airey

When shadows embrace,

Death tiptoes softly, veiled in grace.

A whisper in the wind, a fleeting

breath,

It beckons us forth, toward the

unknown depth.

The sun dips low, painting the sky in

hues,

As life's fragile petals begin to lose.

The river of time, relentless and

swift,

Carries us towards eternity's drift.

Fear not, dear soul, for death is but a

door,

A passage to realms we've not explored

before.

Perhaps it's a garden where memories

bloom,

Or a cosmic dance where stars find

their room.

The seasons change, and so do we,

From flesh to dust, from mortality to free.

Yet in this transition, a beauty resides,

A symphony of endings where new

beginnings hide.

For death is not an end; it's a metamorphosis,

A release from early bonds, a

cosmic oasis.

The stars above and the earth below,

Whisper secrets of eternity we've yet

to know.

So let us not mourn, but celebrate

the flight,

As souls take wing and vanish into

night.

For death, my friend, is but a gentle

embrace,

Guiding us home to a boundless space.