Agonal Breathing

"Last gasp," a poet would call it,

Ignoring the EMTs comment

That what was is gone.

Conclusion's foregone.

King's cornered by pawn.

It's time to move on.

Let "bye" be bygone.

-

Agonal breath, not a torment,

Conclusion rather than portent,

Yet we hold so tight

— While darkens the light —

And rage at the night,

As if human might

Could keep life inside.

-

And now hope, the cruelest of drugs,

The false thing, the meanest of bluffs,

Tells lies to the heart;

Says ending is start

And we can outsmart

Even death — We die hard!

...such tough things we are.

-

We are not gods, we're not demons,

Not angels, not heroes who must win.

We're human. That's all.

We trip and we fall.

We stumble and stall.

Leave covered in gore,

Yet return evermore.

-

So take pause now. Take a step back.

Learn how to know and accept that

When seen from afar,

Such small things we are.

We're none of us stars.

So I'll underscore:

Forget the memoir.

-

And it hurts still. Life robs us blind

Of our last will. It is unkind.

Life's toll and its rate

Takes all but the ache,

Leaves nothing but waste.

No death can be stayed,

And pain is our fate.

-

Agonal breathing; the terminal gasp…

A lover's last smile, not unlike to that:

A ghost of a shadow,

A corpse of an echo,

A duet played solo,

Notation: "piano,"

...as "goodbye" greets "hello."