It is not a wish for death,
but a wish to have more reason for life that
draws me towards the Plutonian shore;
I sense no dread as my tempest-tossed bark
verges upon this permanent night’s embankment.
What holds the Earth for me?
A soul? A purpose?
And yet I cannot see
beyond dense, thorny, and addled mind
to retrieve the sense of purpose
that once felt I, yet have lost in the muck and mire
If, with Styx, collides my soul
perhaps Charon would free, deeming me unfit for Hades.
I should untie my tongue and offer forth the obol
for my conveyance, but I’d rather swim.
Perhaps the River would wash away
the melancholy and remind me of what
life lies within. New baptised and full to brim;
rediscovered self – I choose my old familiar shore.