The Beauty of Dying

If it lies within you to die,
Alive asmiled and virile,
Being where life must live,
A flowing followed fort,
Of thoughts and embraces,
Placing themselves in your hands,
Be thankful.

It is not death you fear,
But the lack of life,
Flowing out,
As semen slides,
Uninspired by lust,
It’s just that sad,
To bear.

And if death appears,
Cheers in its ringing,
Singing praises for your next stage,
Paid in time by years refined,
By a better knowledge,
Bespaced in time,
To where you are.

The beauty of dying,
Is the last art,
Starts with a breath,
And ends instead,
With life inside and outside,
Free flow flying,
To the truth.

To live is to die,
As death brings us life.

Eoghan Lyng is an Irish man, who has written from Cork, Madrid and Prague. Currently residing in Glasgow, Lyng continues to refine his work. Aided with the ability to write in English and Gaeilge, examples of his work have been published in Vada Magazine, From The LightHouse, An Gael-IrisLeabhar Idirnaisiúnta and his eponymous wordpress account.