I cannot put endless thought
Into something I should not.
Death is far from romantic,
So why act like it?
Nature is the source of my origin.
Nature is what will hold my coffin.
Upon death, I will disappear.
Into the Earth, I will cohere.
My last breath will be the end.
My soul will not transcend
Into Heaven to receive reward,
Or descend to Hell to be abhorred.
I cannot accept these beautiful lies.
The truth I refuse to disguise.
This life only has one chance
That ends in a single glance.
I can only hope that I live it right.
If I do not, it will be alright.
Despite the things we have read,
Regret does not exist when you are dead.
I will not say there is no pain
In my heart, or disdain
For this portrayal I firmly believe.
Still, I shall not grieve.
In the moment, I am forced to be alive.
Therefore, I shall attempt to thrive.
To judge my life, I need not a deity.
The only true judge is me.
Ceasing to exist, I will not lament.
Sanguinely, with my life, I will be content.
Back to my origins is what I yearn.
Perhaps, a flower is how I shall return.
