THE LAST DAY

When the day will come

 when mortality will be cut

 like a phalanx,

 when my strength as

 a walker will have waned

 and my biological clock,

 which is in the prison of my body,

 will have struck its last

 and fatal minutes of life,

 when every word we say

 to each other with due honest

 truth will have been necessary,

 to be whispered with barely

 trembling lips, for our potted

 lips are numb with anguish,

 and as I bid my last and

 irreversible farewell to my loved 

ones in my last life,

 I dare to say this as a confessional account: 

Am I really afraid of the world beyond? 

Yet will the healing angelic hands

 of my blessed and selflessly

 caring wife give me 

the final peace and balance

 of soul-harmony?

 As one who is consciously

 aware that he has not

 yet finished his remaining 

work of earthly creation

 and nascent creation,

 I will suffer - with the pangs

 of unforgivable remorse

 - and suffer that in the full

 and unified realization

 of the human completed

 meaning of being,

 I must leave my family

 members without soul-saving

 compass-answers to incessant

 self-reproaches and temptations!

That I could not be present,

 acting and wise, 

in the role of a supporting

 advisor in all their small

 and detailed decisions

 of existence, and that

 I will also miss all the

 value tasks of the precious soul!

 Yet, in open reckoning

 from my half-conscious

 and perpetually frightened

 conscience, I ask:

 What else shall

 I dread when I am

 a precious speck of dust

 in the blessed humus of the earth,

 and a part of circulating human existence?