Expiration Fate

Are we comfortable at the end?  How do we really know? 

Lying in a hospital bed, sedated, are we aware of what is happening?  Is it like a dream?  Is there another state of being we’re in just before we pass?  What if we are trying to speak and interact, but are physically incapable? 

Do we feel death? Do we know when it’s occurring? Do we have a moment of peace?  Is it just a war?

How can something natural and inevitable destroy like it does?  Are our brains capable of handling the memory of grief? Is that what makes people different from other living things? We don’t forget: that’s our greatest weakness.  We can’t forget.  We build our lives around the people we have grown with and they will either leave us one day, or we them. It’s the heaviest bag of shit we all have to carry. It is the fact – difficult to fathom, difficult to forget – which t never leaves. We have a limit. An end. An expulsion of our sentience and attendance. The dark that echoes into our light. 

 Forward is a taxing walk to begin.  We say we want to be our best and live fully, but we’re being emptied along the way. Loss is the lesson as we desperately try to lessen the loss, an unjust circle closing itself upon us.