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Death is not a hunter unbeknownst to its prey
One is always aware it lies in wait.
Though life is merely a journey to the grave,
It must not be undertaken without hope.
Only then will a travelers story live on,
Treasured by those who bid him farewell.
But alas my guest's life has now ended
His tale unwritten.

As proof of one's life, there exists the danger of death.
This proof exists as a flame,
Painfully burning one's life away.
Yet though a life crumbles to dust, time moves ever onward.
He who had been your proof, your life itself...
The answer has been lost, never to be found again