All Remains

A torrent of emotions,
A final, desperate plea,
A last gasp,
The final surge awakens
What may be known as
The final comedy.
A divine comedy Dante himself
Could not have grasped.
A fate so damned, yet concrete befell.
The air becomes crisp, almost suffocating
With its arctic breeze and stifling degrees.
Stiff, yet relaxed
Rigid, yet released
Deep breaths leave one
Gasping, gagging
Grasping to the edge.
Alone for days, now a week.
Accompaniment is by the creatures around.
They utilize and preserve.
The last surge would be the last Comedy
But I;
I would be the last step in a cycle
Meant for the worms

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