begin to stop.
You want to keep going but the light is bright
and your body obeys and begins
to wind down and life begins to let go
of its foothold in you,
(it was tenuous anyway)
and there you are, ailing and fatigued
but aware of what’s happening to you--
(if only you didn’t have to watch)
the spiral outward into your final ordeal--
out into that stark bloodless desert,
into that unwanted escape from self,
from your pleasing intimacy with matter,
out into that shower of sparkling eyes,
into that bleakly beautiful blackness.