Poetry Of Heart & Mind

Dear death,

Dear death,

I can hear your knocking at my door, your fists penetrating the aged oak with the strength of the universe, ravishing my ear drums as if the sound of Thor's hammer crashing against a budists gong in the depths of a hallowed canyon.
My will to live, on the brink of shattering, if it were of simple glass, but the titanium, diamond, make up of my soul will remain impenetrable to your desires.
My grasp upon this gift of life is as the gravitational pull of the earth to its orbiting planets.
The heavens above gave breath into my existence, and only to the heavens above will I relinquish my Resistance to exiting life's stage.
Your premature ponderings of adding my body to your collection of corpses, is just that, premature.
You reach after life as if a glutton at the table of a feast.
You behave as a black hole, swallowing the light, that surrounds you, into your treacherous gullet.
Your intimidations are vastly imaginative, delivering invasive fears into the hearts of the trophies which you seek, you surround me with your spoils.
You've stolen from me my first born before birth, cousins before their time, grandparents before their story met it's end, and my mother who brought with her the beauties and wonders of heaven, to share freely into humanity.
It must be too much, for you, to bear, the intense loneliness that burdens your existence, such as, to have no voice, no life, no emotion, and no accompaniment in your detention.
Though I battle with you as if arch enemies, and I feel the undying pains of your conquests that surround me, I look upon you with heartfelt, saddened eyes, and cannot conjure a single iota of imagination for your curse, but I forgive you for our past and bear no grudge against you.
Please, death, I ask only that you await your call to the reception of life lost, that you not steal away years of life from any man before the divine has written it in, that you display the patience of a wise man, rather than that of a spoiled child, and in doing so, maybe, just maybe, your witnessing of life fully lived, might breath a touch of life's light into your dimmed sight!

Your resistant existence,
                                            Me