Birth or Death?

Death,
a breath
of cold mist
from his lips, twist
in the sorrowed breeze.
Waiting to collect fees
from the lost soul wandering,
a life, hopelessly squandering
any hope of love, a joyous end.
Death comes to him as an ominous friend.

A ray of sun, breaks through the hallowed night,
a warmth welcomes all who lived for right.
It’s subtle yet honest embrace
permeates upon the face
of the weary, kind soul
who lived a life whole
free of lies, sins.
He begins
with worth.
Birth.