With pendulum footsteps, I walked the splitting wood
My last splinters of security, death withheld my own
I'm the board beneath me, lone
I too bent under men's self-deemed mighty steps
creaking subdued words as they atop me roamed
And in my final march, I find no roaring lion nor passion's flame
Only fear I knew in life born from lions tamed

Little know about Death, but I see Him, know
He is my reflection in the pool below
We are the fore bringers of our own demise
For Death's wrappings take from us, His muse
Will we not live, and let Death take from nothing?
But living not is living still
And too stills Death's reflection pool

Now at the end of my wooden plank
And the mountain range of waves lap at me to hold
I no longer see reflections
But I still feel the fear
With a swing, I fell forward, soar!
And as the icy grip brushed my warm flesh
Fear I felt no more