Breath

There is nothing between us and death

But breath --

That rising and falling of your chest

That you hardly ever think about.

It could be snuffed out like a candle

Or plucked like a flower

At any given moment.

And then it is all over --

Everything you spent it doing and saying

Has come to an end,

And little good it does you.

If there is nothing after death,

Why is such a little thing so terrifying?

If there is a Heaven,

Why does something so simple

Bring grown men to their knees?

If I am going to Hell,

What does it matter whether I go tonight,

Or tomorrow,

Or sometime next month?

I am so tired;

A tired so deep,

Simply sleeping can not fill it.

The constant beating of my heart

Exhausts me.

I could fill pages

And pages

With all the reasons

To pull the blanket of death over me,

And wash my tired eyes with its eternal slumber,

But a strong guard stands between me

And the rest my bones ache for:

Fear.

Cowardice keeps me in this world,

Like the last of the peanut butter

You can never quite get out of the jar.

My hungry eyes stare at death

Like a juicy, tender steak,

And fear holds it just out of my reach.

And so I breathe.