My fingertips grasped the fading surface of the water.

Begging for something to hold onto,

Perhaps the hand of an angel.

When in sight I only could see the hands of Death,

Beckoning softly yet mercilessly to let go.

But how could I let go when there isn’t even something to hold onto?

I watched my pale hand run over the last traces of sunlight

The last mirage of warmth and life before I’m enveloped into an empty and cold abyss.

I struggle but why do I try.

When nothing is left to greet me but the fate that is to come.

Perchance I am the weight that lets me sink.

For all one knows maybe this is part of my doing.

But it is such a slow release.

Such a dreary escape.

I give in to the surrounding darkness.

And I come to realize that the mind becomes more alive here than any other place known.

Is this the process of death?

An analyzation of your span of life up until now

The collection of memories and feelings that rush to you for the last time,

before they rot in this dispiriting abyss with you.

But we all live to die.

Once the world gets enough use out of us,

down the drain we go.

Now apart of someone’s memory.

Our decaying body a souvenir of a soul that once animated it,

And that’s all we’ll be someday.

A reminder of a memory.

I finally reached that moment of tranquility.

That surge of pure bliss that rummaged through my worn veins.

Contentedly, I parted my mouth and let the vicious currents of water to flood inside.

The feeling of completion washed over my body as I accepted this release.

And danced vibrantly with Death.