I’ve been to the face of death
A sliding away from oneself
She kissed my cheeks and allowed
Me to live a while longer here

I’ve been to the edge of something deep
For which there is no tag, no shelf
The very end of suffering
That in itself, is not a bad thing

I do not dread the moment I escape this life
Perhaps it will even be a good experience
The unknown is what we fear
The timeless roses have maybe

A brighter hue on the other side?
Perhaps the sweetness of life
Can be better appreciate from there?
Above the wall of toil a slender branch

Is blooming, call it what you will
A strange kind of music, with
No need for mortal food, no searching
For belonging, no puzzling over

The injustice of all human brutality
I’ve seen the face of death and remarked
That her cloud-rimmed eyes were
Shining like the night, not unlike stars
And there was an alien freedom in her embrace.