Gary Witt - Vision

A gentle hand over our eyes,
Death’s meager comfort is its certitude;
Its one true lasting pain found
In festering questions shouted down the hall:
Death’s when, how, why, whether.
An ending or beginning?
Eternal silence or ethereal portal?
Continuation of everlasting energy?
Mere dissipation of chemicals bound together,
For now, by fire and electricity?
A flame too soon extinguished,
A circuit abruptly broken,
Separating current from content,
Leaving questions rising
Like smoke from the breath of a match.
Our own true lasting pain found
In flailing certitude.
And our true solace, our genuine joy,
The simple resolve to see.

Gary Witt

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/vision-14/