As the heart stops beating, memories flash before my eyes—
The good, easy days, filled with joy and laughter,
And the days of struggle, driven by passion and pain,
Where every step felt heavy, yet nothing was in vain.

The eyes open slightly one last time,
The light seems softer, and the shadows fade,
As a visitor approaches, quiet and sublime,
Draped in black, yet shining so bright.

“Stranger, who might you be?” the mindless mind whispers.
A mythical creature, feared yet foe to none,
The mysterious being stands at my door,
Ready to help me pen the final journey.

Neither a nod nor a shake,
The being glides across, a paradox of warmth enveloped by a chill.
A whisper trails the now familiar presence:

“I’m the end of all journeys,
The last word spoken and the final chapter in everyone’s story.
Fear me not, for I am Death, the eternal.
Rest now, weary traveler, your time is done.

जातस्य हि ध्रुवो मृत्युर्ध्रुवं जन्म मृतस्य च।
तस्मादपरिहार्येऽर्थे न त्वं शोचितुमर्हसि॥“

(For one who is born, death is certain, and for one who has died, birth is certain.
Therefore, you should not grieve over the inevitable.)