For What it’s Worth

When the journey grows painful I meditate on death

How in unknown years there will be nothing left –

Accounts, houses, and cars won’t matter
As you lay dying,
Headed to dust from pink matter

You too ought heed the deepest regrets –
Spoken by the faint voices of the dying,
Who blindly await what’s next –

They’ll tell you they wished they had overcome their fears
And how they never spoke up –
Except after three beers
They’ll tell you the truth,
How happiness was a choice –
And how they wished they had shown courage and followed their inner-voice

But for you Dear Boy –
For what it’s worth –
Your heaven and hell are still here on earth

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