In shadows deep, the reaper waits,
With silent steps, he navigates,
Through life’s grand hall, so vast and wide,
Where whispers of the past reside.

The clock ticks on, relentless beat,
Hearts entwined in dread and heat,
A dance of fate, both grim and grand,
Death’s cold touch, a spectral hand.

Yet in the dark, a light does gleam,
A final breath, a fleeting dream,
Memories fade, but love endures,
In timeless sleep, the soul assures.

In marble halls, where echoes play,
The end of life, both night and day,
A classic tale of death’s embrace,
In whispered tones, we find our place.