A person is a dream. To end
full of contagion, fear, and sick
smeared across the Book of Life
carbon black ink like ancient times.

Placed in a soul so it must know,
A person is a dream. To end
gasping and languid. Unsure of
what legacy may well survive?

Around which starlight vines embrace
carrying back which was given.
A person is a dream. To end
with void. No more than ideas.

A body grows like anything
else. No greater than blades of grass
sheared and returned to the Earth.
A person is a dream. To end.