In death we trust.

In death we trust.

It is a becoming

We move toward

With unerring progress.

In such uncertain times,

It is a surprising

Feature we hope to avoid.

And never see

The truth of

Its inevitability,

Until the unwanted

Is thrust upon us.

And its intrusion,

Sometimes carefully chosen,

When the gift of sleep,

From which we

Have always woken,

Acts as anaesthetic

To disguise the moment,

Never really wanted,

And is so wounding,

Even the survivors

Carry the damage,

To their own end.

It seems so distant,

A blank canvas,

Unknowable,

To all who may

Approach it.

A concept, with

The power to end

All of this life’s search

For knowing,

That sits,

So quietly,

Between and within us,

Defining the passing,

Of all our days.