Don't know why they cloud you with so much negation.
O' Death, you aren't the end.
You are life's fulfilment, its completion,
You must be looked at instead, as a friend.
What are you? What is me that dies?
Questions I have asked you time and again.
You answered me, you told me no lies,
Truth as it is, without a single bargain.
My clock starts the first time I inhale,
That one mighty breath of life.
Then you follow me through every intricate detail,
In my every joy and in my every strife!
The people dread you, they say you take away everything dear,
Say you are the end, You! The root of all torment!
Yet a man that has known you, has no fear,
He knows by death, he is being paid the greatest compliment.
For he has developed with you a great friendship,
In knowing you he knows what is true.
Now his life is but a beautiful courtship,
A poet he becomes, so blissful and so blue.
This one that has known his mortal nature,
Lives at the peak and cherishes all he has,
Not a moment has he to waste in worry of ego and stature,
A life lived of a different class!
And when the time is ripe, his death he blissfully welcomes,
Letting go of all in the last exhalation.
Inching towards the peak of all orgasms,
Readies himself for the ultimate relaxation.
In knowing you he lived a life so full,
He lays down at peace and breathes his last.
Knowing he will be taken to the eternally beautiful,
Smiling, he bids adieu to a beautiful past.