So much that we cling to life,
even knowing that death is imminent.
Before or after. It comes unforeseen or
simply at the scheduled time.
Diseases come and go, cures enrolled;
but she wins the battle in the end.
Clinging we follow, until the last breath,
waiting for the circumstance to be wrong
We will never understand, perhaps, that all transition is necessary,
that there are roads and there are stops, that death will always be
our abode
