What is it like to die, be dead?
Nothing but nothing, no more, no
less than dissolution and all being
gone, not to heaven or hell:
no consolation, no judgement:
just a silence that is no silence
at all, for to feel nothing is to
be nothing, and the time before birth
has come again, and just the remnants
remain to remind those who knew
this person, unique and forever no more,
that the time to feel is now, here,
amid the flesh that is pink, not
the heart stopped up and bluish cold.