When you try to sing and all that comes from your throat is death
this will be your final poetry, an empty corpse,
something to be buried, or cremated by family and or friends,
strangers too will play their part,
its what you left for them to say Adieu to, the last remnants of your song
on lips forever closed, a heart flown, silent poetry on your tongue
and this death will be the gate through which you will pass
coming to rest within the best poetry of all, the poetry of eternal love.