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So this is what happens when I'm half asleep and composing poetry in my head. I have no idea where this came from, but I kind of like it.
One day, Death sat down and watched the world end.
He sat, and felt the burden of those who died increase
and the folds of his robe deepened and draped heavy on his body.
When all was finished he walked the earth and as he passed
the fires that raged died down to ash.
All was still and bare and quiet.
Death’s sister joined him as he kept vigil for the blackened world.
He said, No matter who or what dies it is always far too soon.
No, she replied, It was time.
And Death was silent, for who was he to argue with Fate?
