I See Thee, Death
(This had an inspiration, but I no longer remember what it was, as it has been so long since I first started this poem, and I lost my original copy—which was better.)

Death, O Death, I see thee.
I see thee as thou are.

Thou’rt not King, no Master of all,
But a servant to the meanest slave
And the richest king.
Thee must be always rushing, running, here, there, everywhere,
Taking everyone—those who are not ready, and fight with thee every step of the way, and those over-ready, who die too soon and increase thine work.

Thee slaves more than any other to do thine work.
Thee obeys kings too ready to go to war, taking soldiers and innocents
Who otherwise would live.

Thee obeys assassins who are quick with poison and blade
To order thee from place to place.
One day, I, too, shall call thee, and thee shall be mine servant.

Death, O Death, I see thee.
I see thee as thou are, and
I pity thee.