In shadows deep, where whispers softly tread,
The specter of our fate does gently glide,
Through mortal coil, where life and death are wed,
In twilight’s grace, where silent tears reside.

The fleeting breath, a fleeting spark of light,
Must fade into the night’s eternal fold,
Yet in the dark, the stars do still ignite,
A testament that stories must be told.

Though death may come, a shadow on the day,
It brings not fear, but peace upon the brow,
For in its arms, we softly fade away,
To join the stars in everlasting now.

So let us greet the end with calm repose,
As Shakespeare penned in sonnets long ago,
For in each line, a deeper truth he sows,
That death is but a step where life must go.