We all die:

You and I.

He and she.

Ze and it.

Sooner or later.

Quickly or slowly.

In pain or in sleep.

With a last sigh,

Or a last scream.

Death is not the end.

Death is not the beginning.

Death, quite simply, isn’t.

Then, why do you cower in fear?

There are waves rising in the ocean.

Do they roar in terror,

When they crash upon the rocks?

Or sigh with relief,

When they die upon the sand?

I am not a person,

Says a wave,

And dissolves.

I am not a wave,

Says a person,

And dissolves.

Nothing listens.

Nothing understands.

Ypsilanti, August 2021