I am not afraid of death.

Is that an odd confession?

I am enthralled by the absence of being,

One’s own existing recession.

Now I don’t believe in make believe,

But I do believe in making,

A life that is better for those to come,

Before we are nevermore waking.

Time after time until time is all out of time.

The constant chase for more dime.

Yes we’re all human,

But who of us are actually being?

And are we thriving while living,

Or just wandering and seeing?

But back to my confession,

Back to the top.

See when death is present I am not.

And when I fail to be,

Death is there to represent me.

And no matter how wicked I became,

Or how saintly I remained,

They will wear black and cry,

Whilst they pretend to know my name.

I look down to see my funeral pyre,

Lock eyes with God and shout:

“It was worth it!”

Before I’m thrown into the fires.

So children, heed my final breath:

Live with fire in your eyes,

And never fear death.