Death Poem by Saint Cynosure

I do not chase you has you run,
you will someday come to me.
I'll take from you all that is fun,
you will someday see.
Light your candles make your peace,
ask the father please.
Hold your beads and say your prayers,
dirty up your knees.
There is no place that you can hide,
on land in skies or seas.
There is no treatment you can buy,
cause I am not disease.
I will not chase you as you run,
you will someday come to me.