Mutterings Of Death

What do you think about when you think about death? Do you even even think about death? This first part of this poem captures the poets musings about the inevitable end.

When the body lies limp
after the breath is emptied from it
leaving it hollow
Just a decaying shell
I think of hearts left behind
of the grief that clutches their hearts
squeezing as if it seeks to drain its juice
But mostly, I wonder
about the hollow body...
Of its flesh that once had burned with passion, a heart filled with desires and mind of plans and ambitions of greatness
Did it feel secure and peaceful or frantic with regret when it felt the light was about to be doused?
I wonder, I wonder
How did it feel when it was clear
that never again would its hair sway under the caress of the wind or its face warmed by the hot sun
or its flesh tremble with spent passion for his other half
Like exactly how dead is dead?
Did it hold out hope that though the simple pleasures of living are lost to it
there may still be other pleasures for his new kind
Perhaps a different kind of existence?
with peculiar pleasures?
All cannot be gone!
But if it finds that it is
that the hollowness is the end
then maybe it would swear
to come to return
in the form that can be reborn

But what do I know...
these are just the mutterings of a mind that wonder about death
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