Clutch of death

No warning call, no ticking clock, It comes as shadow, still as rock. A whisper through the final breath— The uncheatable clutch of death. We barter time with hope and grace, But death still keeps a ruthless pace. No lock can hold, no heart can sway, It steals the brightest light away. A laugh now echoes in the void, A seat is left, a bond destroyed. Yet in the silence, love remains— A thread that lingers through the pain. It does not pause for tear or plea, Nor yield to faith or family. And yet, within its cold decree, We find the spark of memory. So raise your voice, not just in cries, But in the stories that survive. For though death wins the final breath, It cannot steal the life you left