Death Grip

In all the years
Since life’s first dawn 
None have escaped
The grip of death:
With last, lost breath 
Drawn map — landscaped 
What lies beyond
This vale; stopped tears; 
Torn veil of fears — 
Born to be pawn,
Lot to be raped — 
Ere laid ’neath heath
 — By whim, reap wreath
 — Life by death shaped — 
Ere done and gone
 — Life held so dear
The now and here
Is cut short, shorn: 
Feeling on nape
The grip of death.