What Is Naught

The rider on his trusty steed
The darkness of the night
A shining blade is by his side
A glowing piece of light
The hourglass in his pouch runs low
Somebody's time is short
So therefore he must quickly go
And embody what is naught

A silent grin is on his face
The rider cannot glare
He cares not for time and space
Where they are, he's not there
To king or beggar he will come
To choose is not his cause
Though folklore says that there are some
Play chess for their discourse

To eternity he'll take you
When your time on earth is through
The choice of when is your's to make
The choice is down to you

He comes to his destination
A room like any other
Therein reside a crying wife
A daughter and her brother
Beside the deathbed stands a shade
The recently departed
He waits upon the man in black
By whom he'll be escorted

The rider joins this woeful scene
His job is yet to do
The cord, it has yet to be cut
The lifeline cast askew
The rider lifts his final blade
He swings and it is done
The man must leave his loving wife
His daughter and his son

The rider mounts his trusty steed
The darkness of the night
His working blade is by his side
A glowing piece of light
An hourglass in his pouch runs low
Somebody's time is short
So once again he quickly goes
To embody what is naught.