Many say death is a fiend

The cruelest of all, they claim

They fear the scourge of separation

The accuracy of mortality

Traumatized by the very thought of the word

Hell

But I said to them

Death is kind

Perhaps the most benevolent of all

Yet they would shake their heads

And believe not a word of it

So I told them the story

Of the prince and the maiden…

The prince beseeched the wizard of long age

To grant him the gift of immortality

He replied

“Immortality shall be bestowed upon thy majesty,  

but thou must complete the quest

To save the dying maiden.”

So he traversed these beryl waters

Plodded the high mountains

Trekked the verdant pastures

In search of the soul he had fallen for

At last

he trudged over the threshold

Only to find her

Caged in a sepulcher

Stolen by his greatest foe

He cried until his tears of sorrow ran dry

He cried until blood streamed from his eyes

He cried until he could no longer see

He sought for the wizard

Yet he was nowhere to be found

He went to his greatest enemy and entreated

Take me away, I beg for your mercy

He implored

But death told him

Immortality was never a gift

Rather the cruelest of all maledictions

Thou shall be condemned

For thou had coveted it so earnestly

So the prince lived

For an eternity

He lived... 

For an eternity 

He lived…

He lived...