A Pursuit Of Life and Death

What is life if not a string of natal travails,

For every second we’re born anew.

And every second we’re dying too.

Every moment the circle of life and death prevails.

That spate of lives we live

In that final moment before we cease.

And those innumerable deaths that we die

While we are still on life’s lease.

What is life if not prolonged death.

So many deaths packed in one breath.

Every second we die as we live

Hoping to recoup what we give—

That precious, rare, and vital potion

Which rarefies with Time’s ceaseless motion.

Alas! Recovery is impossible.

Today I am what I never was,

I am what I never will be.

Every breath is anxious because

Tomorrow it may or may not be.

But what if the truth lies elsewhere?

What if Death is not as ghastly

 As it is made out to be?

What if that moment when life does finally freeze

Is indeed the moment of redemption, the moment of release?