The Last Cognition

"The silence fades with a soft embrace," like twilight slipping beneath hospital blinds. My body becomes stillness in slow motion— the breath between two worlds. Machines hum with patient doubt as I drift from heartbeat into hush. Somewhere, a hand still holds mine, believing I might stir, return. But inside, I am loosening— thoughts folding like paper birds, memories sinking below their names, the self undoing, gently. Neurons dim like distant towns at night, each light a moment letting go. The mind that once held oceans now softens into shoreless sky. Not pain, not fear—just quiet, settling into the folds of forever. A hush gathers deep within the brain, not silence, but a final kindness. Breath becomes an echo, heartbeat a distant drum. Even the machines seem to whisper, as if they too know I’m leaving. "The silence fades with a soft embrace"— no rupture, no sudden dark, only the slow return to where I began. I leave no sound, but warmth remains— like light after a flame is gone, or a name whispered too softly to hear.