The Journey

I refuse to let death be my life,
for it is the only one that I have;
I’ll not worry about the end of my path,
it will come soon enough,
and getting there is the fun part.

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Epitaph

Time gives way to the timeless
Life gives way to death
Form gives way to the formless
Motion gives way to rest
Weep not for me at my passing
Mourn not that I finally sleep
For death is no more than a passage
From time to eternity

Fade

I long for the peace
that comes with dying:

to fade into the afterglow
of a life no longer wanted,
to settle into the stillness
and comfort of oblivion,
drifting aimlessly and endlessly
in the comfort of not being,
unaware of my awareness,
and blissful in the nothingness;

but twilight holds me captive,
and I must linger yet a while
between here and there.

Shotgun Silence

And when the silence takes me
all that will remain will be the
empty echo of what never was
straining in the background
of a world that never noticed,
a resonant dissonance lost
in the decay of itself.

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It beckons:
a moment that’s only
a breath away,
the space between
life and death where
living really happens;
a chance,
a risk,
a rush,
and the hope forgetting
what brought me here,
the thrill of the storm
charging the blood,
until the fire burns out
and the sweetness of pain
replaces the bitterness of being.

Epitaphs

There is a certain peace
that comes with knowing
forever ends as it begins:

Resolution to a quiet resolve
where courage once failed
offers hope where
none is else offered.

Epitaphs are only ever written
as an afterthought,
forgetting all but memory,
and what will never be.

So the poet writes his own,
knowing what will be
between the gods and he,
without the fear once held
of finding his release.

Passing On

And silence,
in all it’s painful beauty,
is what will remain
when the echoes fade,
and memories with them
shall pass into nothing;
only then, and only then,
will I find my peace
and in forgetting be forgotten,
given to the Void
and to Oblivion,
only when nothing remains.