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The death you die is so final, not of your choosing,
soon even your being's drums will have no meaning,
soon even your soul of souls will feel no feeling.
As the shadows lengthen and the light fades,
memories dissolve into the void, untraced,
no echoes of laughter, no whispers of pain,
all becomes still in the eternal refrain.
Yet, in this silence, a paradox thrives,
for in the end, it's life that arrives,
through the final breath, the last heartbeat's song,
we transcend the temporal, where we belong.
In the void, a canvas, blank and wide,
where the essence of existence can forever bide,
not bound by flesh, nor time's cruel bind,
but free in the cosmos, with no form defined.
Embrace this passage, not with fear but grace,
for in every ending, a beginning finds its place,
the death you die, though final it seems,
is but a doorway to the realm of dreams.
