I am death.
When you were born
you saw me
and knew that I was no abstraction.
You have seen my eyes, my ears
you have seen my hands and legs
you touched my hair and screamed.
Your mother drew you to her
but you were hardly aware of her presence.
Your eyes were shut to the outer world
and there was no one but me in the inner.
You grew up.
You saw.
You forgot me.
You know me as time, as god, as life:
an idea.
Somewhere inside you my eyes still wander.
One day they will come before yours.
I am death.
To the next poem in this trilogy