At Your Bedside

One day, perhaps too soon or far in age,

you'll watch the sinking sun through quiet glass,

and feel within that dim and silent stage

a truth no living soul can ever pass.

That lonely light, a caustic, pressing weight

falls low and settles cold on skin and bone.

It does not shout, but quietly states

that no one meets this hour as their own.

Our mothers, fathers, all we've loved before

have seen this light descend without a sound.

Each life must stand before that final door.

Each breath must yield to time's unyielding ground

and there you lie, with water at your side,

unsure to greet the dawn...or with it, die.