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Ah,'tis a cold night'
Do I mourn as I raise my head towards the heavens,
The calm breeze which gently caresses the soft grass,
Is not enough to suppress the icy chill,
But, alas, 'tis only a negligible irritation.
My sight reaches that of the sky
And instantly the chill does not trouble me.
I allow a gasp of admiration to escape me,
For from beneath a black velvet veil,
Do the stars iridescently shine.
Their splendour so skilfully caught,
In such a way no human hand could master.
I gaze in wonder and amazement at my master's work.
Such a peaceful way to die.
And yes, 'tis the sad fate which awaits me.

I discern a distant figure shadowed 'pon the horizon,
The Hand'
The Hand is a ghastly creation,
Forged from the conflagration of hell.
Was with humans from the dawn of time.
Prowling within the shadows.
For where there is light, there is shadow,
And where there is shadow, there is The Hand.
It is the very thing that all mortals fear.
It is a bloody and tattered sight,
Of which even the bravest men would retch,
And burdened too upon it is the terrible stench, of death.
But my time draws near,
I can feel the hand's deathly presence,
Hence the time of reckoning begins.

And thus the final blow is struck,
The hand grips 'pon my chest
Its skeletal fingers hone into my heart'
My breath does not come easy now and my body weakens,
A wheezing rasp emerges from within my chest,
Yet still the pitiless hand does not wane.
Undaunted, still I valiantly struggle' 'til my bitter end.
My carcass 'comes flaccid. It is over.
Yet, tho my body has expired,
May no man, no woman, nor even child,
Weep upon my grave.
For go, I do, from a life of sorrow,
And before me, I shall witness,
The coming of thy kingdom.