Death comes closer, ever closer— Creeping, seeping, leaping near— To take back, gently, what was given And in so doing, soothe all fears.
Worry not? Blaspheme! Treason! Accepting such abandons reason! She who welcomes her last breath Shall find it in the very next!
Ah, but friend, you misunderstand— I preach not action nor attitude— Nay, I implore but recognition: In facing facts, find fortitude.
Stoically, I must agree. Of course the facts ring true to me. All the same, I’d rather hang Than prematurely resign the game.
I see, OK, fight on today— Your spirit shines admirable and fine— Tomorrow, however, I shall return And convince you that it’s time.