Before I lay myself to rest
there are mountains I must climb.
Before I go, I must construct
the perfect paradigm.
There are bridges that I have to cross
and rivers I must ford;
and metaphorically at last
cut the umbilical cord.

Those things that I have left undone
from my long bucket list
must rapidly be tackled before
they can be dismissed.
And superficially at least
are tasks that need to be addressed,
and any sins remaining
that need to be confessed.

I will not go gentle.
I will shout and scream
and beat my breast,
withstand all mental
pressures that would seem
to put me to the test.
It will suffice just to resist
the forces that will persecute,
and, knowing I have done my best,
shall raise my fist
into a victory salute
and stay defiant to the last.