Saint Death

I am no saint.

No one prays to me.

They beg instead.

When I come for them,

They plead and ask for mercy.

But me, I am the mercy that some long for.

I am no judge nor am I the jury.

I do not revel in being the executioner.

I am but a doorway.

All I ask is that you step through.

I can not tell you what is on the other side.

There are those who can stave me off,

They will come to me someday.

The poor, the rich, the sick, and the healthy,

None can elude me.

So many curse me,

Their time was too short, they say.

But you received the same as everyone else, a lifetime

It was yours, to do with as you wished.

When your hourglass runs out, you will meet me.