The last bow
testing our fears,
of life we hold dear.
of slow death fatality,
question posed is direct and blunt:
are we yet in blissful calm tranquil
or shrouded in fear of oblivion?
Vicarious knowing of no avail,
at moment of final appraisal.
Our core determines how we sway.
Thought constructs all fall away.
We stand thus stark naked.
We cannot fake it.
What will it be,
bliss or fear?
Copyright © Unseeking Seeker | Year Posted 2020
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