Final Destination

(Yup, another poem about death.  I think about the subject a lot for some reason.  Not in a ‘I want to die’ way.  There’s a terrifying fascination in my brain about the whole concept.  I have grow anxious when the idea that everything that is ‘me’ can cease to exist at any given moment.  Even if there is evidence that I was alive, the ‘me’ will be either somewhere else or nowhere.  No wonder humans come up with afterlives.)

Death is inevitable
The ancient cliché
A phrase of despair
Or acceptance
Or mocking defiance
Yet we fear it

It is a fear
Twisting at our bowels
Gnawing at our minds
Teasing at our triumphs
But is it fear of the inevitable act
Or the aftermath

Heaven for the pure
Hell for the damned
Rebirth
For those that think it so
We paint these pictures
For assurance

It puts our minds at ease
To believe
To have faith
That part of us lives on
After the flesh
Has served its purpose

I pray that this is true
Even Hell
Would be better than my fear
I lay awake some nights
Imagining that I die
And become nothing

Darkness
Coldness
Yet I cannot see
Or feel
All my senses
Have ceased to be

I have ceased to be
No spirit to move on
No soul to wander
No essence to prove I was here
I am nothing
Without my flesh

This is how I fear death
Not the act of dying
I fear
That one day
My invisible switch will be flipped
And I will be nothing