On screen now

(Right now, with no reason I killed 2,000,000 evolving codes on my office PC. Shift+Del; Quite an easy job!!)

Once in an old old time
Death was a hunter.
He was strong, young
Wild, sharp, inherently Wise
Like a sword made in sky

Now he is a director
A real Avaunt-guard
Slim, tall, hunch backed
With bright blue eyes
Taking you through
Stairs of sounds, images
dark gray blur light
Perceptions and smiles.

When you reach to the top
You are wondering
That was the job?
Whole an accidental
Cycle of laugh and cry,
Thunders in green yellow
Red purple rarely white
Which was a random
Reflectional function
Of A filter, a tragic
Black-box Called life.