I think I may welcome you
when you come to my door,
although I may not welcome
the road you take,
or the road you make me take
to reach there.

I understand the beauty of your brutal work though;
You end things
so new things can begin,
The world cannot run without you.
You are the harbinger of freedom,
liberating mortals from pain,
albeit yes,
You gift grief to the ones you leave behind.

Perhaps in the future, we will live longer,
Thousand instead of a hundred,
Million instead of a thousand,
but even for the immortals
Life is ultimately short.
Even the universe has to die at one point,
And when it does, does it think it happened all too soon?

Some would grieve when I would leave,
Some won’t even notice.
If by chance I am well known,
Perhaps I would be remembered more,
my identity, my life,
analysed, scandalized
interpreted, misinterpreted,
Perhaps I’d inspire, or called a liar,
but thankfully, regretfully,
I would be too dead to do anything.

And for that peace,
Death, I am grateful.
Perhaps it’s easy for me to say
when I am not dying right now,
perhaps it’s just a petty attempt to accept
that if I am born, I’d come to you,
I’d die, and I’d go
to wherever it takes to complete the circle.
So why should I be scared of you?
You are a part of me,
You are inevitable.

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