I will lie and wait near the gate to see
if others suffer ere I broach the way.
The passage is unknown for all like me
not seeing light at the last trice of day.
To travel the starry road of endless night
is succor for the dead but cows the quick.
The dying though, is the main crux of fright.
We transit by lantern with no wick
across the gulf of the null place alone
and enter an amorphous dark suspense.
Where nothing but untold expanse is known.
With dream sight serving as our useless sense.
I often muse about life after the last sleep.
It may be found in the lost dreams we keep.