A strange thought,

Death is.

A frightening thought,

Death is.

Perhaps that afterlife so many count upon does not exist,

But instead one faces darkness at the end.

A slow diminishing of the senses.

A loss of the light,

that has grown dimmer and dimmer since the moment of birth,

until its final extinguishment.

To be forgotten at the end,

leave no contribution,

leave no legacy,

is the worst way to retire.

To fight death is fight to the cycle, the indescribable miracle,

and in the end, it will always be a loosing battle.

I know, I understand, I must leave this life.

I must depart, exit this beautiful phenomenon in which I currently exist,

just as each before me has done.

Yet even as I try to reason with myself, I’m fearful

Terrified,

of the youth I will lose,

and then the life I will lose.

And then when this life is over,

I will face what every human fears most:

the Unknown.