The Slave to Time 

 

The life of one is equal to none.

A curious statement one could say,

To all that meet in slow decay.

T’was certainly what I thought as I held my breath.

When I sat across the table from a lass called death.

 

A Death glimpsed at me, I saw no anger nor malice.

No, in his stare, all to be seen was sadness.

Her gaze turned down by an unsung force,

The third one playing forgotten still.

As Death turned the dice with cold, solemn remorse.

 

T’was two who knew the fallen game.

Though I was lost for grief too near.

As Death turned the dice with latent pain.

And the dice did tumble…

 

As the dice did tumble, did I see

A lonesome tear roll down Deaths cheek?

Perpetual sorrow too long to bear

For why was she to be the villain?

Mustn’t we all play the roll we are given.

 

 

As the dice did tumble, the third one playing did so smile.

A figure drunk with winning guile

For in this moment, one could note

The hollow silence of the age-old Master.

And thankless blade upon Death's throat.

 

As the dice did tumble to a stop

Each had a six upon their top

Death looked at me with mundane despair

All too familiar with the bitter taste of victory

T’was only then did I find,

That I was hers and she was mine.

For the life of one is equal to none

And even Death is a slave to Time.