About My Fear Of Death

English sonnet sandwiched between some Eights 'n Sixes

Children of God, pity my flawed
and dull sense of self-worth.
While heaven may find you someday,
I'll return to the earth.

I'm nothing but a wisp of swirling dust,
set out to please my heart and gut; and bound
to disappear in time, as all things must,
that come from and return unto the ground.

And, like a stone that's beaten by the wind 
or twigs picked up by birds to build their nest,
those pieces forming me, upon my end,
will go back in the mix with all the rest.

And, as our world is eaten by the stars,
in time so stretched, but no concern to me,
there will be none who care about what mars
and taints my current swirling ecstasy.

I'm living with the suffocating fear,
that when i die, my mind will disappear.

So, if it seems I'm chasing dreams,
betting on illusions,
just leave me be, in reverie,
amongst my delusions.

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think.

Reviews

[William Michael Reeves]

Hey stranger. I was looking for Petrarchan sonnets by different poets. Couldn't find one that you had identified. Studying the resolution in the sestet of the octave. Ran into Richard. The one with the pen.

I tried not to be distracted by the bread and ate the meat of the sandwich first. Not sure if I can alleviate your fears, as I believe we are as organic as all around us and death takes our minds in the end. Excellent expression of fear though. I would like to think my essence might end up in a nest, of life. I really liked the sonnet and can see how you might want to add to it. The sonnet form is so brief. And you used your last quatrain to completely resolve your thoughts.

Direct me to a Petrarchan Sonnet if you have one. Thanks

[mattavelli]

Thanks for reading, Bill! :)
I direct you to my Sonnet For Regret. Enjoy the writing. That sonnet form will inspire lots of word folding.

[The Archangel Gabriel]

God you have a lot of views! And, a lot of reviews. Lucky you!

You'll return to Earth? I doubt it. Turn and burn...

Not your best work, yet, but I like it. Good to see you!

[mattavelli]

Hey, Gabel, thanks for reading. :)

[Richard🖌]

Well, my dear friend,
The brain we're furnished to think with tells us emphatically that nothing can come from nowhere and disappear into nothingness; therefore, it leaves us with imagination to figure out where we came from and to where we go, in what form.
We can, also, know "we" are not what we see … ie: Our hair, our skin, our face, eyes, etc; and we can realize our brain that does all the thinking, creating, etc; is but a tool that serves us in our present three-dimensional form and world, and it, too, will return to the elements from which it came, as will our spirit (the unseen "us") to its origin … perhaps, to rejoin the entirety of the universe, every atom — vastly smaller and larger that ever existed … who can perceive the TRUTH of it all.

BUT, with this amazingly original presentation of excellently rendered and blended poetry, you certainly give us reason to pause … ain't the imagination simply marvelous, Matt? ⁓ Richard

[mattavelli]

Hey, Richard, thanks for reading. :)
Ya, this is not a soulfull poem. Haha... But it is heartfelt.

[Philip Muls]

Wise madness (knowing dead brings the end of consciousness) or foolish sanity (leaving you in your delusions). Terror management comes naturally through repression and denial of mortality.

I'd love your opinion on my story Angst.

Great writing!

[mattavelli]

Thank you for reading, Philip. :)

[Lydia Shutter]

I liked the rhyming throughout this poem. Chasing dreams....hey, why not? As writers, we all hope our words will survive after we have left this earth....and we will never know for sure if that happens. As far as your mind following you into an afterlife, well, you will find out when the time comes, my friend! Lydi**

[mattavelli]

Thanks for reading, Lydia. :)
like to rhyme.

[Workvio]

It would be nice if there actually were a heaven or a hell, because even in hell one has one's memories, gets to see one's family even if only at a distance, and even in suffering once does have existence ... But the reality is that all the hoopla about heaven and hell is just that: Hoopla. ... Without doubt there is a Creator ... I still attempt to cling to a Hebrew lifestyle, but I clearly see that whatever truth about the Creator that was ever present in the text of what many called the Old Testament has been muddied by man's attempt to present the Creator's personality, character, etc., in man's image rather than simply as He is, perhaps a well intended effort in thinking that the only way man can relate to the Creator is to relate to a God that thinks, acts, reacts, like men do, but we would be so far better off to simply present the Creator as He is: The Creator of all that is and will ever be that is so vastly beyond our comprehension that He simply cannot BE EXPLAINED in human terminology ... You are not alone in your fear of losing your consciousness of awareness of existence ... I too battle with that latent fear that is inherent to us as humans ... Yet, when we sleep after going to bed dead dog tired, and we find ourselves saying that we slept like the dead, no dreams, etc., then in reality for that time while our bodies slept our conscious minds were, for all practical purposes, dead, which is what I have come to the conclusion to that we shall all enter into one day upon our deaths: Nonexistence ... I hope there is eternal life of some kind ... My message is that we should not preach or teach that eternal is a sure thing when in reality there is no hard evidence of that being a fact, especially when we send men off to war arming them with the false confidence that if they fall in battle that they will see friends and loved ones again in a heaven that does not exist ... Hell is the other side of the control fear factor fable of organized religion ... Your poem says it well, and this is a very nice piece ... Clearly, you are a Freethinker and should visit the page of Andre Emmanual bendavi Ben-YEHU, a very scholarly thinker and internet friend of mine ... http://www.writerscafe.org/andreebb1

[mattavelli]

Thanks for reading, Marv. :)
My godless self refers to "creation" as "the stuff". I have no idea where it all came from or if its always been. I know it changes. When we go outdoors, we see the stuff from whence we were made. It's huge. It's full of gods. The sun, moon, sky, water, ground, all are gods, but to my mind, they are "stuff". When we go indoors, we see the stuff that man has made. His home itself is a tool for controlling those gods, with a roof to block the sky, plumbing, flooring, windows. Man, creator of the toaster, stacks homes together and we have a community. Compare communities and we see how the gods and man have battled, reflected in cultures. Culture condenses into dogma. The patron god is born. conflicts between communities... Survival requires structure... To fix this stuff we need a bigger home... A nation is born. Toasters are recycled into toaster ovens and the patron gods bow to the lord of hosts. Nations war, merge, collapse, and fracture. Cultures evolve from man vs. the gods into culture vs. culture, subculture, popular culture, technoculture, one nation swaddled in information. Justin Berber proclaimed god of teenage girls. As members of the church of #lmfao crusade to reclaim Mars from the Transexual League, a lovely baby girl named Felix is born on the west slope of Olympus Mons. Her mother, a cyborg gestation box/toaster oven combo, proudly takes a selfie with the child before reinserting her and resetting to broil. This sacrifice pleases the Great Galactic Dung Beetle, Gathrashitz MIX.

I'll check out his page tomorrow.

[Philip Muls]

Marvin, I could not ageee with you more. Well said.

[AliciaB]

Very good. I like the idea of "those pieces forming [you, me, everyone]" getting mixed in with the rest of everything when we die. First and last stanzas are my favorite. Keep up the good work!

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Alicia. :)

[Solar]

These are my favourite lines - bringing the macrocosmic and microcosmic together in a bang of assertion not a whimper of cowed awe:

/And as our world is eaten by the stars,
in time so stretched, but no concern to me;
there will be none who care about what mars
and taints my current swirling ecstasy./

[mattavelli]

Thanks for reading and the feedback, Solar. :)

[Ellen Kolman]

Excellent write...you communicate so well what so many are truly afraid of...that we will cease to be, not just our body, but our minds too...I loved it, so much to think about! BRAVO

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Ellen. :)
Dread... it makes me dizzy. Haha

[Anthony Nacrelli]

I dig it man *

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Anthony. :)

[h d e rushin]

beautifully written Mattavelli......dana

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Dana. :)