Death, My Friend / by renee mckenna

The edge is always there.

An abyss we will all fall into

Or leap

Or step with silent intention

One day. 

If I look over into the chasm of the great unknown


Curiosite replaces fear

And I can listen with my body

To the wisdim of Death. 

The Grim Reaper


The Angel of Death. 

And when I jump or fall or step with my intention

She catches me

Like a child tossed in the air

And hugs my soul