Certainty; death is unparalleled as a stopping place.
A bookmark if you will on a story you will never return to.
The end of the world is meaningless, when OUR time draws near.
Other concerns is replaced by grasping eternity from our bed.
Our life is defined by our desires rather than the Will of our Creator,
Until we can reach no more and breathing is all we hope to do.
If our life had meaning, then our death is happily celebrated,
By our family, friends, the ones we blessed and ourselves most of all.
But when in life we stopped challenging fear, we truly died within
And the rest of our time, we spent waiting for judgement to come.
It is the unfulfilled dreams, the selfish pursuits, our pain management
That we squandered our lives and gifts upon, with our only final tribute
Being a marker on our burial plot. No wonder cemeteries are so depressing.