out dOOr

 
I don’t fear death,

I fear missing it.

the end point.

the Period.

more relevant than the dash

–punctuated by racing vermin,

and very little cheese–

death is cessation of orchestrated maze.

(en route or not)

so many do–

–fear death,

and I wonder why. . .

a fellow traveler

without empathy,

I watch them struggle

from the inside out—

questioning the grip

that tightens as all else fails.

Death is the letting go–

the loose of mounting woe,

the good night sleep

that eludes–

death is ease.

Inevitable return to the source,

and quintessential reunion.