All the time
Izra'el's shadowy hand
wilt forever
be just hence
a few feet away
an inch behind
around the next
corner's bend
no fleetness of foot
nor cunning of mind
could save one
whose time has come
from the very richest
to the most poor
to the embrace of death
will all defer
upon that moment
on the appointed time
will appear the angel
with death in his hands
the cleaving of a sword
a thousand times compound
the ripping of the soul
from it's bodily confines.
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