The End Of 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)