It begins with the Nightmare.

At night he follows them,

Eye less sockets watches them,

his limbs creaking stiffly

as he ascends

the twisted iron stairs.

Before, he stand,

face to face with Death himself,

offering a skeletal hand

engaging Death in dance.

The first move.

Took Death to the floor,

The organ aged of bone and flesh

began to bellow

taking the form of a ballerina

they began to twirl.

A knife to his throat,

Death takes the upper hand

Backing Nightmare against the wall,

Organ howling,

Masking the scream

as Nigthmare turned,

and ducked and weaved

his way to the centre.

His ebony cape falls back

caresses the floor

He sinks to his knees

Death laughs once more,

a howling, harrowing tone

his final laugh,

his final call.

Then a voice takes over the organ's grind

Life takes her note

and forms a tune,

the sombre song seems pitiful,

a mourning song,

a morning song.

The third move, final

cast in stone,

both retreat.

Life takes her place in centre stage

orders both men

to fall to their knees

as they obey,

she stops, mutters

please.