A Sword Never Drawn

I first realized my friend would arrive early when the wax melted
I could just imagine his misfortune
His stomach slowly dropped as the wind started to whistle by his ears
HIs voice burned as his beloved city grew larger and larger as he grew smaller
He became a spec in a sea of debris
I still ask myself if it was an accident or the intention
He embraced his faith
let there be an end he chose
a privacy,
an obscure nook for him
For he was forgotten even by God
They tell us that the act to kill one's self is the greatest piece of cowardice when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person
Even at his birth, I stood aside a little. And every day I looked toward him and mused somewhat to myself whether that day or the next I would draw nigh
I never did
As the ocean took him into her hands, I felt his presence at my gates
There he stood, perplexed by the figure that stood before him
"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"
"Welcome Icarus, for I am Death."