A meeting with my death

I was sitting alone, it was dark and cold.
I could hear it was raining, could hear the wet leaves.
They were murmuring, saying some stories untold.
Stories of brutal pain, stories of helpless grief.

My eyes were closed still I could feel the darkness.
Could hear the rain drops, falling and falling.
Seemed like I was a leaf, could feel the drops on my face.
And a strange tone out there somewhere, calling and calling.

She was calling my name, asking me to follow her.
There in the woods, where the trees are staring at me.
And in the light of thunder I’ve seen her standing not so far.
In front of the woods, with her hair open, yes it was she.

That beautiful divine face and those shining eyes.
Smiling, as if saying “on me you can keep upon your faith”.
And I asked, “Who are you? Are you mine?”, and she cried.
Said “yes I am yours, yes I am the death”.