Where Is Death's House Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Hidden behind three walls, looking out to find a
reason for it all, why does death have to haunt us
all our lives?

Taking into account many minutes of each life, they
become precious, so why does he steal them? Where
does death lie in wait? Beneath our feet?

Or in a stately mansion invisible to us who live?
carefully treading his way towards everyone at any
given time.

What is his purpose, what has he left, if all of us
are finally dead?