I worry not.
For I cannot see.
I have lost all that is sought.
And let all that is, be.
It is serene.
But not rightly so.
My mind has gone lean,
with little emotions lightly sewn.
Death is nothing.
And will always be true.
And as frequent.
As the morning dew.
Apprehension and guilt are not present.
Life itself is iridescent.
In the abyss we were born.
And into it we shall return.