It was Life that was the stowaway
All those years ago when Death had found her,
So young, fragile and beautiful.
Only He wasn't Death back then,
No, He only became Death when His crime was found out.
He had let the abberation live,
and so He was tasked to correct His failure,
And end Her.
He learned with time there was no penalty for patience.
His punishment turned to collection,
Collecting back the pieces
Of Life untill He had Her whole again.
With every piece two more would be created
But He had time.
He watched Her flourish,
Watched Her gain sentience
Watched Her debate Good and Evil
Laughed at the irony
Of something breaking existance
Debating it's own morality.
Watched Her tear apart the Universe
And put It back together getting everything
Mostly right and still so wrong.
He waited till the last little piece of Her
Finally let go
Stealing up the last little heat in the Universe.
Finally complete,
He took Her newly formed hand,
not unlike so long ago,
And led Her into a new Universe
For another like Him to find.
