Death

We will meet
someday,
even for the sake of this poem.

In the gloaming
my days will near

shores of Night,

Parting waters will whisper
just like Morning did.

When my being will subside
inside yearning lungs

When my sentience
will fly
anywhere between
heaven and earth,

diary pages
will heave a sigh of relief.

I shall only take
some cryptic verses
to the world beyond . . .

for the sake
of this poem.