Wheels of Grace

The elevator goes down, 
But she only goes up. 
Told she will soon die, 
She burns with the fiery passion of raw life inside. 
As she sits in her wheelchair,
Her blue eyes soar higher than those standing around her,
Gracefully floating above the vast universal ocean from which they were born, 
And to which they will soon return.
Those surrounding her exit the sliding doors frowning, 
As all they do is but a means to an end. 
She wheels out smiling, 
Well aware that the end is the only place we can ever truly begin.
The others irises are hollow and black, 
Misted with the musk of healthy bodies, masking diseased souls. 
Her veil is lifted, though her earthly body is dying, 
She felt the birth of her soul long ago.