i.. am something more than matter.. i hope
although.. i cannot tell you how much more
i think of myself as a fly.. to cope
my size of course, and my weight i am sure.
a fly.. too small to understand that i—
so quietly ignorant of the room—
fly into a window i cannot see..
silently ignore my impending doom.
death is not scary.. death has no meaning,
don't even concede that you are still feeling.
the fly wont feel his heart when it stops,
still will live blithely till the day it drops.
its relentless wings are ever devote,
asking for no more than to stay afloat.