The End To Its Shouting

He died

in a whisper

alone

in its presence

The call of death

weaker

than what he’d

been told

Wading into its

shallows

each step

took him deeper

Reluctance

and acceptance

 both swimming

in turn

Each voice

every motion

he passed

toward the bottom

The pressure of

choosing

now

drifting away

In denial

and waiting

the past

floating above him

But the end

of its

shouting

— had finally begun

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)