The Song

As the grim bells of doom grow louder,
The heart gets ready at last, to turn inwards,
Each second readier than it was the last,
To accept the arrival of impending death,

And as the soul accepts its dark fate,
Sets in, within, a tranquil state,
The eerie silence of terror unclouds,
Giving way to peace that's loud,

And within that silence, I hear a whisper,
A feeble sound, a squeak, a faint murmur,
Listening further, I found it was a hum,
The sound of a tune I'd heard since I was young,

'Twas familiar, yet new, this tune, this song,
A tune I hadn't heard, but my soul knew,
Like that cafe you'd walked past, but never noticed,
Like the letters of a word you'd never observed,

This song, I found, felt cool and warm,
Cushioning my angst in this dark, lonely realm,
It soothed my soul and eased my pain,
Whispering words of solace and calm,

I saw, now, this was the song of my angels,
Locked within the deepest chambers of my soul,
It'd sung ceaseless, throughout my life,
But hidden by the noises of the without's strife,

I see it's played, this tune sacred,
Beside the beats of my now slowing heart,
And while death draws closer than ever,
This song, my song, plays louder,

I wished I'd stopped, when alive, for a while,
Paused, for a moment during my busy life,
I wished I'd heard this song divine,
So it'd have made me feel less alone,

And now, I sent my thanks to the Divine,
For bringing my focus to this gentle sound,
For now, as darkness closes in, ruthless and fast,
My wounds hurt less and I'm at peace at last