He fumbles in the final stages,
The closing pages of his eyes
Spent collecting moments.

Beyond, who knows what distant sky
Awaits his coming as if he
Were on his final journey hence.

He has no fear to fall asleep
To close his eyes within him
Keeping memories of his life.

If he should die, he knows that he
Had lived a life that's not
A lie or mere pretense.

He lived. He died. In truth, he tried
To come as far or chose to hide
Within the myst'ries he most feared.

He wakes, he dreams. He sometimes seems
To come as close or far between
The moments he can't share.