Deathbed of Life

I laid deep in Silence,
Submerged in thoughts,
It was my Morgue room,
Filled with corpse.

This place had a Peculiar Stench,
Of stale Perspiration from the Dead.
Well that's the last Mark they could make,
Rest of their actions lay Behind,
Slowly erasing from the Fist of Time.

I play backed my life
To find my Golden Arc,
The moment when I Forked some Light.
Later on found,
It was all degraded by Blight.

Summing up those Shattered pieces,
I felt Numb,
My Heart didn't Beat,
I felt Succumb.

Was I late to Act,
Just before my Cremation, 
I felt like a dull Stab.

This was not the time to Mourn about,
With my Spirit far away,
I was busy Integrating the Movie of my Life,
With no Climax,
No Goal,
Just a Slow Stride.
Had I wasted,
Wasted the opportunity called Life.

I get that Deathward feeling now,
Slowly creeping within,
As they Lower my Coffin,
Into the Darkside.

I was Dead when Alive,
But now Dead and Alive.
Huge difference it did make,
I'm sorry Mates,
I was Wrong,
It was Life to Live about,
Not for the Deathbed to Sight