Hades

[horatioalone]

Someday you will die.
Don’t fret. Everyone dies.
How many people are dying
right now? Socrates died:
one minute still talking, the next dead,
a gadfly swatted to death.

Alexander met his death
in Babylon, shocked that he, too, could die.
The dead
weight of empire dies
by fits and starts. He died
just shy of thirty-three, no age for dying.

There is no diagram to dying,
no guide to a good death.
Take Caesar – he died
surrounded by friends. He cast his die:
it came up snake eyes. But a legend dies
hard. Even Brutus dreamed of him, long dead.

And the dead
do tell tales. Dying
scares mouths shut, but then the light dies
and death
unlocks the door. Secrets die
only in theory; in my kingdom, no story has ever died.

If you died
tomorrow, would your dead
soul stir in farewell? Would you die
weeping or laughing? The dying
have a strange sense of humor. Death
as punchline: how abruptly the mood dies.

Yes, everything dies.
Whatever you’re thinking of – it died,
too. Try to make your death
count; you only get one. The god of the dead
is strict: there are no prizes for dying.
And I know exactly how you’re going to die.