Have we not surpassed Death
Are we to cower behind those bony fingertips
Forever
Do we concede defeat
To his icy grip
When he reaches for us
Do we fight ignobly against
The bitter end
Forever dressing our wounds
Praying against infection
By mortality
Surely our legacy will carry us past
The precipice
And we will stand on the banks
Of the river Styx, laughing jovially at
The ferryman
Do we venture to sip
From the Fountain
Sate our thirsty hearts with
A small taste of
Forever
I do not fear him, certainly
For what consequence could he bear when
I am already buried deep
In life.
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