Death the Champion

In my time of dying
I hear the whispers
rushing through the leaves;
I see the ghouls flying
crying, denying
every thread of life.

I feel my blood
warmly rising.
I sense the gods
plan my mortal fate.
I feel them devising
my carnal death.

Sometimes, once in a black moon,
and at times of late, when only the dead
roam, I'd hear them knocking,
rapping, tapping at my window.
I'd silently get up, only to hear the wind blow.

I'd then remember
what the elders used to tell me:
"Son... you'll never ever grow
if you don't ever follow the road...
The long mighty road filled
with holes and coal. That road
which leads to Eden. If you keep on
changing roles, ma' son, you'll never
ever get to Eden, and will always,
always walk under the watch
of those sinful heathens."

Then came the moment of reckoning.
My last supper. Then came the
moment of yearning, wondering
what life would have been if I
had not been such a fool.
I realized I was a tool, a tool
and a fool! What a cruel, cruel
world!

I felt my blood slowly
draining my life.
A knife that drained away my breath...
I saw the heavens parting and the Sun
getting closer.
And then, came Zeus
in his chariot, and crowned me
with an olive wreath. And so it was
that the Champion was Death.

Death the King.
Death the God.
Death the Savior.
Death... the Champion!

And as I left for Eden,
I heard the plebeians shouting
in strength unheard of since
the times of Troy. I heard them shouting
words of loathing and raging. I saw
them staging at the wings of Death!
I held my breath, and for the longest time
I cried and cried. Only to have Death be victorious.

Death the Victor.
Death the Deity.
Death the Hound.
Death... the Champion!