Death be not proud,
Death be a shroud.
It will come with certainty,
It will come sleepily,
If you are one cast of vision
Distinguishing the view from prison.
Life gives time
To consider earnestly
Which path to walk all gingerly
Some race, some trace
But wisdom is pace, and position.
For there you are
Facing the transition
Muttering opiatically
Whatever your vision
During life, your chance to get
Wierdly hard, clearly beset
Did you choose the nothiness
The opiate
Did you choose a vision when
The smarties called it prison,
But here on your bed
It’s easily and honestly said
I saw my vision and lived it proper
Despite recruitment by derided sophists,
They experienced some similar,
But could not connect it
Their prison may have been
Purely proved
My vision may have been
Thickly grooved,
But I chose light
And free flowing intermingling souls
So in this opiate haze
Death be not proud,
Because I chose it lifts death’s shroud
It let’s me into this
Vision I made
While you lay in a box
Unlike us crazies
Your in the dark, pushing up daiseies