The Grim Reaper Poem by Ivan Mauricio Urrego

O Thanatos,
Pitiless, awful and hateful towards all
death bearer and dark Night’s son
whose heart is cold as ice and hard as bronze,
a myriad of names you own soul gripper
to many; Mors, Azrail and the Grim Reaper.

You whose empire unconfined
extends to mortal races of every kind,
On you the thread of our life depends
whose absence lengthens life, whose presence ends.

The Silver cord you rip in joy, at wake
by your grasp sheathed essence you take,
dark and deep as the sea the doom you heap
whose twin your beloved sleep
the unending bursts the vivid bolds
by which the soul attracting the body holds,
common to all, of every sex and age,
for naught escapes your all-destructive rage.

Not even youth itself your clemency can gain,
hearty and strong, by you the ill-fated slain.
In you the end of nature’s works is known,
in you all judgment is absolved alone.
Neither plea nor toll your dreadful wrath controls
No oaths or vows revoke the existence of your soul.