You-
Are afraid of death.
We can all see, it remains
obvious to the living.
Your trembling keeps you aware
of your limits by
borrowed body and baited breath.
Those weak limbs only lent in posterity
become bent
out of sorts and in specimens
You know, you have no ownership
Accept
the choices all there
your self unaware
the voices no where ensemble
the sirens that blare
some semblance to soothe by
Temptation
and taunt steadily
amplified at the base
of all heart beats
and eardrums.
You
conductor,
are listening for a pattern,
a way of knowing
the curse was weak
the cures were waiting
before Eternity for
You
in terrified harmony
aghast and kept petrified
shivering me to timbers.
Painting By Thomas Degeorge, Death of Archimedes (1815) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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