Death-rattle (a poem)

Death has come knocking,

quietly at first and now with a shout

that rattles the planet –

My instincts are conflicted: for so long,

I have craved oblivion, but now that it’s here

there’s a fear that plays with the chemicals

in my broken brain.

Underneath this fear, there’s something inside,

a light that flickers and expands into brilliance

as I cross the threshold of agony.

There is no passing without pain –

it is the price of admission to

whatever comes after.

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