The Beacon

A thousand ships couldn't sail me back from distress, when you are still there, a flaming beacon in the distance, a fire I can't put out. And Death, Death yearns to take me, Death is the cold, the snow and the rain, the merciless cry of the wind. But why are you still burning, you're burning and I'm dying. What I am afraid of? Nothing. Nothing but you. Nothing but Death and his cold hands. You, the light to my dark and the end of salvation. You, the final warmth in a world so cold and broken. You. You're Death.