The Garden Where Death Keeps Watch

Beyond the breath of mortal lands,
Where time dissolves in silver sands,
There lies a garden veiled in night—
Not dark with fear, but hushed with might.

No petals bloom in vibrant hue,
But pale as moonlit drops of dew;
Each flower fed by whispered names
Of those consumed by ancient flames.

There walks Hades, crowned in stone,
Upon a silent, ashen throne;
His gaze—a weight no soul can flee,
A keeper of eternity.

Beside him drifts Thanatos, still and fair,
With shadow folded in his hair;
He does not rage, nor does he cry—
He is the reason all must die.

And near the roots of fate’s old tree,
Where threads are cut so silently,
Stands Anubis robed in sand,
The scale of truth within his hand.

They are not cruel, these ancient three,
But bound to endless prophecy;
For death is not a savage end—
It is the path all lives must bend.

A child once wandered, lost in dread,
Afraid of all the stories said;
Of shadows deep and endless fall,
Of nothingness that swallows all.

But Death approached with quiet grace,
No hollow void, no faceless space—
“Do not mistake my touch for pain,
I close one door to birth again.”

The garden stirred, the petals sighed,
As countless souls passed softly by;
No screams, no chains, no burning cries—
Just truth unveiled from mortal lies.

For myths have painted Death in night,
A thief who steals the breath of light;
Yet in his hands, so calm, so deep—
He grants the final, sacred sleep.

So fear him not when shadows fall,
Nor dread the end that comes for all;
For in that hush, beyond despair—
You’ll find that Death was always there…

Not as an end, but as a guide,
Who walks with you, not far behind.