When I look forward
I see the eyes of death pierce down
The narrowing stretch between I and he;
His mouth drooling as the scent of my anxiety
Touches his foul nostrils.
I am paralyzed with the eternal presence of his stare:
Where is the meaning if all we can do is wait?
But as I look down, the skull is not yet in my hands,
And my breath is still firmly in my lungs.
As the intensity grows too infinite,
I turn, using all the reason in my body
And face the fertile past:
My birth, my victories and my losses.
As the hearth of my heart
Rekindles once more with the warmth of life.
I know, Death’s stare will never be the same again.