Thanatophobia
The notion engulfs my conscience.
It raises a question, I fail to answer.
They say, the body remains,
Whilst the soul departs.
A claim backed by none.
How do I know it's not trapped?
The emotions I endure today,
Magnified and unbearable.
The scorching sun,
A glass of lava poured over my body.
How do I lie on a pyre,
With hundreds of woods burning beneath?
Once contemplated burial.
Yet how I ignore,
The revulsion of crawling maggots.
Feeding on my brain.
Fading consciousness heralds the stench,
Declaring the emergence of decay.
The eternal peace is agonising,
Quivers, petrifies and shatters rationalization.
Though I'm acquainted with it.
I saw it, I knew it,
Nevertheless I attempted to evade it.
Why do I deny surrender then?
It is a race,
And death, the destined victor.
Age is the vessel I am aboard,
sailing forward, yet no reversal.
Not a glimpse of the past I discovered,
What is left of me that I'm afraid to die?
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