Are you the end, severing my potential? Are you a end, or are you a beginning a apathetic agent who clears the way for the new? Am I old, or have I done what destiny prescribed and you are giving me a pen for a blank canvas for my own tales? Aren’t you the gate keeper, the one who welcomes those to the starless lands? How can I write anew tale at the end of all tales, do I need to? there is no light to show my glory no light to revel my despair Ah, you are death. A poem; a bout, the acceptance of death We fear you because of your necessity but heed not the toll of neccesity on you. You are the owls ***** in the night. The solace at the end of the longest and most periless of trials. To know about you is to fear you but to know you is to love. you are my friend and the last I will ever see. I know you?