The Dance of the Dying


I am here in the now
Without a why
Or a how
Leaning upon this thought;
Who am I
And belong to what

Is this world the same as me
A life made alive in memory
Of being a being without a voice
Free to choose but without a choice

And shall the death be all it take
To make me cease and never awake
And to not know what all this meant
If the sinner in the end is same as a saint

5 thoughts on “The Dance of the Dying”

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