The Silent Visitor

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She carries neither scythe nor fear, but a cloak of silence and ancient peace. She sighs as she watches the last light fade.

And in her hand lies a tender comfort. Her eyes, weary of so many farewells, have witnessed a thousand goodbyes.

It is not cold, it is simply inevitable and true. With a gentle gesture, she heals wounds. And leads us to a dream in the vast and unknown.

She walks slowly, without haste or condemnation. She remembers every life, every laugh that fades away. Her voice is a soft murmur that does not hurt.

He is aware that, ultimately, it is only the soul that continues.