The Thanataphobe’s Lament
I see the grey within and the grey without
While from inside swells a silent shout
I fear, I dread, I do confess
That eternal boundless emptiness
And here upon this long cold shore
‘Midst scattered people, I feel it more
That all through life, through all the rain
We feel the mournful aching pain
Our days tick by and then are spent
The piper calls, collects his rent
What then, we cry, what happens then?
From dust we came, to dust again…
But what of that spirit light
Then flies unshackled, is all right
Is there such? Do we carry on?
Or does the world but turn, us gone?
Forever nothing and never more
Can we come to stand upon this shore
Be silent, child, and still your cries:
Do not think on, for madness lies
that way, behind that darkest door
marked ‘life’s end, for evermore’
No more your mind, no more your will
Your body lies decayed and still.
No point at all for deeds you do:
Time will wipe clean last trace of you
Were for good, for ill, ’tis all the same
All is naught in endless game
So then what point life, why should we strive
To buy scarce few more years alive?
No point at all, for the end we’ll meet –
but think not of that as your defeat:
For ’tis not defeat when given, nay;
So remember, come your dying day
To accept you’ve drawn that final breath
And smiling walk straight unto Death
Accept this then, and with it smile
For at least you had life for a while
Your time was short, you met your end
But you’ve known the value of a friend;
So face him down and tell him true:
“Death, I’m not afraid of you.”
This piece of doggerel was inspired by Eric Meyer’s post Creativity Jam Session: Images And Words and was supposed to generate the synopsis of a book or a film, but for no reason in particular I was inspired to poetry. Let me know what you thought…
Hello. I am 
Inspiring. It captures my torment perfectly, but still manages to leave me with a glint of reassurance by the end. Do you do much poetry? (I’m fairly new to your site so far, just browsing around randomly for now.)
Good and honest poem, but I’m afraid it doesn’t really reassure me much.. and although it ends with bravado, I’m not sure I believe you, or any thanataphobe really feels like that. maybe you’re trying to encourage yourself to feel that way, defiant and noble, and ultimately acceptaing about it, but it’s not easy to do that in reality I guess. Still, I guess poetry might as well try to inspire and celerate our bravest aspects not the small and fearful ones