He was as tall as the room
with an ominous domed width.
Wrapped in a burlap black robe
surrounded by the roughness and a twist.
With worn patches at the knees and shoulders
his face was probably that of a death soldier.
His hood shadowed his complexion mysteriously
while the peak rubbed the ceiling rather seriously.
He towered over my bed
and gave me no sense to dread.
I rolled over and stared up.
We stared at each other.
This creature just stood there long and bony.
His fingers protruded like tree limbs
wrapped in his black burlap.
Slowly and playfully Grim tickled
the underside of my chin.
He said, “You wanted to live.
Yet every day you just hurry along with no play.”
“What if I were to tell you that in two years
you shall die?
What decisions would you make then?
Would things be any different?”
I could tell he had a sense of humor
as he pondered along further.
“Would you sail the south of France in a ship made of cliche?
Would you tour Stonehenge or explore an Egyptian hideaway?
Would you run along the beach arm and arm
with an exotic stranger?
Or would you just continue droning along
pretending to stay away from these dangers?”
While he towered over me I thought of all the friends
and the blood relations
whom wasted the time with their occupations.
Their plans were grossly cut short.
Their lists left as a last resort.
For one bone chilling second I thought,
“That could be me!”
The creature had a point.
He continued to tower.
He kept scratching my chin.
“Perhaps you cannot avoid your fate
or maybe you shall luckily escape,
but either way wouldn’t you rather have lived
as if you only had two more years to give?”
– The Artist D, dreamt & written November 7, 2015