The Man And Death

He knew it was the end,

Death himself was there to send,

Him down to hell,

Or send him up- he couldn’t tell.

“Oh becloaked Omen,

Am I to go to heaven- or is it hell that is my fate?

Please tell me, for your answer, I cannot bear to wait!”

Plead the man.

Death raised a pale, scrawny hand.

“There is no Hell, no Heaven,

Only Eires, an afterlife, with floors counting eleven.”

Death said, lowering his hand.

“Is it really my time to leave this land?”

Inquired the scared human.

From the darkness of his hood, Death gave a gentle grin.

And what a horrid sight that was!

The man began to shake some.

“Fear not, little one,

For you have done,

Plenty right,

To earn your right,

To floor eleven,

Which is just like the heaven,

You were always told about.”

The man let out a gleeful shout.

“I thank thee,

Oh Death,

I thank thee for telling me what will really happen to me!”

Said the man.

Death tilted his head.

“Well, if you’re ready, we should go now,”

Said Death, drawing back his hood.

He looked good,

With hair of snow white,

His eyes vibrant and bright "

Violet of color.

The man nodded with merry vigor.

Death gave a smile while holding out a hand.

“Come young one. Together we leave this land.