Final Moments
He’s curled
on death’s
doorstep,
hovering in
the beating
hum of
translucent wings.
He floats thru
thoughtlessness,
out of
gravity’s reach.
He’s a
pinpoint
of light
on the
fringe
of space,
beyond which
time does
not exist.
He’s curled
on death’s
doorstep,
hovering in
the beating
hum of
translucent wings.
He floats thru
thoughtlessness,
out of
gravity’s reach.
He’s a
pinpoint
of light
on the
fringe
of space,
beyond which
time does
not exist.
Filed under poems & short jabs