Needless Things: Death's Inception

In silence born beneath the stars, Where time forgets its track and scars, A shadow stirred, not yet a name, A breathless wind, a formless flame.

No scythe in hand, nor robe of blacks, Just whispers tracing heaven’s cracks, An ember in the void's deep chest, The dreamless seed of final rest.

The cosmos wept in hush and awe, As fate unveiled its oldest law. From birth of dust to dying sun, The cycle knew what had begun.

Not vengeance, wrath, nor cruel decree, But soft as tides that meet the sea, Death opened eyes with solemn grace, The calmest ghost, the last embrace.

It knew not hate, it bore no sin, It merely was, and is, and will begin. A whisper of death, a hush, the stillness calls, And in that final breath, the black curtain falls. NNN