I have only seen his face a handful of times.

He keeps his back to everyone,

always looking towards his next destination.

Sometimes, I have seen his sideways glance at my careless mistakes,

or shuddered at the cold rot of his breath as he passes by.

He wears silver and black,

red and blue, orange and pink,

never seeming to look the same way twice.

Always though, he appears all at once in a swirl of darkness,

Arriving at the end.

 

This stranger, so unknown save for his absolute reputation,

has a promise to keep to all who know of him.

Even now, he is there, waiting.

He does so without being idle.

His hands are always at work, like the devil’s.

Be it now or later, someday he meets us.

 

I am no stranger to the stranger,

but one day, we will become the closest of friends.

 

And so will you.