Painting Stars

The Thief steels warmth from her weary soul

And whispers to her his ancient song –

It’s time, my love, to come away,

You can no longer wake and no longer stay.

Your ways of youth have turned to old,

The slave of flesh today was sold.

Her strength can’t loose death’s cold embrace

Or pry her hands from its dreaded grip.

She only hears her distant fate –

Come with me now, come take my hand,

Your canvas awaits a wondrous land.

You’have fought me well and bravely held,

But now it’s time to free yourself.

A new sun bright, the night is purged,

She’s gone to paint the distant stars,

And the Thief begins anew his dirge–

There is no reprieve or hours to mark,

Time is mine and the journey far.

You’ll argue it well and struggle to stay,

But no one is granted another day.