One brother soul that walk the night,
His time came close to an ending sight.
Beyond the fade appears of Death,
Who comes to wait his final breath.
Yet ponder still, a philosopher in heart,
Who rely of words to defy from start.
A battle of debate between Death and man,
Which ones which the victorious grand?
Man conclude of the infinite space,
A thousand to one that can be trace.
A dictation of will, man’s eternal,
Alternate planes that seems immortal.
Death grew tired of these smartly mind,
Whose discovery creates an excuse of time.
So Death then attack with a serious counter,
That shook the Man’s unreachable order.
Death then ask a simple question,
If deeds perform the moral of action?
If he then acts the good of will,
Who to say his others won’t kill?
The Man then stutter to compose a reply,
But truth then clings like claws and flies.
For Death persist the morality of choice,
Of good and bad; hell, heaven and voice.
In the end, both found some enlightenment,
Death, now impress, of this ideal stunt.
As Man continues to fight for a huff,
The light of soul shall fade and puff.
Before the end of this endurable Man,
Death then bows his achievement so grand.
With skeletal smile of this humble Brother
‘AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER.’