Could death be so beautiful?

Could death be so beautiful,
A folding of the wings,
The sudden, stilled conclusion
Of all tempestuous things?

Not as a thief in shadow,
Nor a cold and iron gate,
But a soft, exhaled surrender
To the heavy hand of fate.

To slip the knot of longing,
To shed the cloak of care,
And vanish like the fragrance
On the evening’s cooling air.

To be the amber sunset
That sinks beneath the deep,
A hushed and holy promise
Of an everlasting sleep.

If life is but the tension,
The ache of wanting gold,
Then death is the release of breath,
The story finally told—

A quiet, silver starlight
On a sea without a shore,
Where the restless heart finds anchor,
And seeks the pulse no more.