they found him in a wheelchair
out on the 99
he was flipping off the traffic
as a way to kill the time
the rain came down in buckets
and he began to fade
like the leaves of trees in Autumn
he fell into the grave
as he waited in the casket
that was the mother earth
he thought about his value
and what his life was worth
he tried to put in numbers
his own atomic weight
added to the data
as accounted by his fate
"did i move mountains?" he wondered
"or still the savage seas?
did i tower into heaven
above the tallest trees?
did i move the congregation
to their feet with great emotion?
did i conjure up the spirits
with many artful potions?"
"was i good to fellow people
to strangers and to friends
did i love as best i could
or did i crash it in the end?
did i see the world in light alone
without squinting in the shadows?
did i trust the mystery
or drown it in the shallows?"
the old man saw the sun at last
dipping in the west
his grave was cold and damp
he began to heave his chest
the rattle of his aching lungs
the smell of death's dark stew
he clawed the air so weakly
it was all that he could do
that night it came in silence
with the ceasing of his breath
the one thing most assured in life
is the coming of one's death
and here in Autumn are the signs
that speak to one and all:
climb, you might, to greatest heights
there will but come a fall
one last trick the old man made
one last sweet deception
he gave his body back to earth
and did not seek exception
the greatest thing decided
in the vapors at his ending:
"i am not separate from this
i am the never ending"
***
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