A Conversation With Steven-His Battle With Aides

i have seen my death wrapped around a maypole waving four corners in the wind hauntingly playing peek-a-boo with my soul i have seen my death as i march onto the battlefield aimed to kill that which threatens my very existence my right to stand on the balcony of life feast my gaze on the rising sun interlaced with the aroma of morning dew sit at the edge of a quiet stream watch the sun slip slowly behind the mountain peaks the air dancing with the fragrance of lilac i have seen my death viewed through the stethoscope of the minds of learned men that boast their knowledge their talent their skill as i move away from sterile hands with sterile anger pushing away sterile needles that have not the cure only promises of next time i want answers to this rage this terror that no man understands i have seen my death through the eyes of my loved ones as they kiss away my fear their fear my death their death i cannot enter into their quiet soft place my space is filled with shadows as i watch them close the coffin on their humanness but not their souls i have seen my death and i'm not ready to die