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Last Days Before Death
When my last days have finally come
May death not be a lingering sunset.
I say, it is not the finality of it all
But the slow drag of a long cigarette
Snuffed out into a casino ashtray
Like the slow dimming of its light,
Over the golden and prune horizon
Into the pain and aches of twilight
Behind the face of a mournful moon.
Never, is it not the finality of it all
That sends dread through my veins,
Since death lost its sting, as I recall.
When the stillness of my breath arrives,
When it draws closer to the twelfth hour
And the snow has reach my keen head
Be as the zenith of the sun in full power.
Be as the rider on a steady mountainside,
Be as the writer on the stage of accolades,
Be as a family patriarch surrounded
By loving cheers louder than parades.
When my last days have finally come
May death not be a star extinguished.
Though on a knee, yet face lifted high
May age be as youth as it once flourished.
May death not be a lingering sunset.
I say, it is not the finality of it all
But the slow drag of a long cigarette
Like the slow dimming of its light,
Over the golden and prune horizon
Into the pain and aches of twilight
Never, is it not the finality of it all
That sends dread through my veins,
Since death lost its sting, as I recall.
When it draws closer to the twelfth hour
And the snow has reach my keen head
Be as the zenith of the sun in full power.
Be as the writer on the stage of accolades,
Be as a family patriarch surrounded
By loving cheers louder than parades.
May death not be a star extinguished.
Though on a knee, yet face lifted high
May age be as youth as it once flourished.
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