Crossing the River Styx
on a craft only made for one,
fire on all sides,
with the strong drifting scent of sulfur.
The Keeper of the Gates
stands tall and erect.
Shrouded in a tattered black cloak
with eyes of black, leering out throught the pain.
Flames rise higher
as I near the rivers edge.
Reaching up with gentle fingers
as if to grab me and pull me under.
As I finally reach his looming figure
his dark eyes start to glow,
with only a passion he understands.
Slowly he bows.
While bowing, he reaches out.
Skeleton like fingers awaiting my hand.
Feeling overwhelmed by fear and awe,
I let him take my hand in his.
"Welcome home my child."
