Carrying round this cage of secrets
Heavy on the soul
Feel the last rattle upon me
Vultures fly overhead for cool pickings.

The battle is not with death but me
I feel the battles I've had throughout my life
Battles against me, few for me
Battles against myself.

Then death rolled open its rich tapestry
Oh, and was it red!
As I stepped onto that final rung
I felt the wrestling inside; the rattling of that cage.

Great is pity for carrying over this onerous charge
I ball my fist, rage at the skies
And nought but silence greets my fear
Thus graceful forward; no more to prove.

I've heard that G-d is love...
Let's hope I meet no wrath
I've heard speak of rebirth
Oh, let me unburden afore I leave.

And the rattle of the cage's so loud
Lying here, I try to tell you things
But 'tis of little use, for I am witness to
The last moments of this life . . . .

Eyes feel lead-laden, hands so heavy
Head feels like stone, an appendage
Tongue swells up; cannot speak
And the lights go out inside my head . . . .

Yes, someone turned out the sparkle in my core . . . .

(I think that . . . . no, I think . . . . )

And then . . . . simply,

I am no more . . . .
No more.

( . . . .  )


Star Toucher, 21 February 2013