Don’t Fear The End

I’ve already heard the swan song

so you don’t have to minc words with me.

I looked into the welcome maw of death

at a tender age, many years ago,

and heaven has heard my name

more often than my mother wants.

Now, when I wake in the morning,

I am alive, the sun shines; as I slept

the Earth spun, my hair grew a fraction of an inch.

No longer am I jealous of the leaves in autumn

for I learned lose so young

death dares not hunger for me now.

Let me hold you for a moment, please,

while I think hard on the best way to explain

the tenderness of most people like me,

who chose to burn, once upon a childhood;

with melted wings, ground bound forever,

I have learned to love the world as if it’s all I have.

Does hell wait for all those

who did not try to die by their own hand

but wished for an ending, dared not to pray,

though they walked out into the open night and

begged the universe to strike them down?

Give me your hand, I’ll try to tell you a truth

without having any of the answers.

See, if the car sails off the cliff

or the rain comes with thunder and lightning,

there are another six billion years

before the Earth falls into the Sun

and none of us are going anywhere until then.