25 or 85

I was intrigued by the concept of death
And scared of the reality of taking my last breath
This happened when I was six or seven
“I’m not traveling by the River Styx, I’m flying up to Heaven”
That was what I thought, though not as eloquent
It took time for that confidence to be evident
The canvas is more complex than this rhyme scheme
And I’m compelled to write as the situation deems
But, it seems death has a way of making itself present
Makes a mockery of our plans, irrespective and irreverent
Yet relevant to the fabric of our lives
Our yin and yang, our earthly balance comprised
It’s amazing how I’m still surprised
With everyone else’s surprise because tomorrow is not promised
Then there’s the visual: fear becoming urine or jaundice
Once on the backburner, now front and center to realize
That no one gets out alive; therefore, we must deal
Even fantasy knows when to step aside for what’s real

Tragedies daily occur; no wonder Jada[kiss] asked “Why?”
Any belief in a grand future, death defies
It doesn’t like you or it’s not allowed to swallow you
Keep an eye on the shadow that follows you
You don’t see it? It could be when it’s most dangerous
Blind sides are usually life-threatening serious
Not always heartwarming like movies inspirational
But co-relational are the scenes inspired and pivotal
I’m grateful for every second I’m privileged to breathe
Even on this windy overcast day, no anger to seethe
I’m not deceived: only God controls my fate
One fateful day, the faithful will not see Death have a wake
But a fiery funeral; that’s my chosen belief
My opiate to contextualize my pain and grief
My narcotic to be “macho” and teach the love I’ve been shown
Stare death in the face and say “I’m not my own”
If I cross the bridge sooner than later, so be it
25 or 85, I’ll be full, believe it!