The Last Breathe At The Station Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

What will it be like
when I close my eyes
for the last time?
Will I see that
bright light
I have heard about?
Pain may flicker
in those last moments,
or maybe
there will be
no pain at all?
This I do not know.
From my first breathe
to my last, oh how
many people and places
have I known and been?
Seems a wandering train
of adventures
has left the track.
Oh, how it seems
to have been rushed.
It is now,
as it seems,
the end.
That last stop
that shall only
happen the once.
This passenger
is getting off
at that location.
Will anyone be
at the station
to greet me?
Such is the faith
I hold, that I
hope this is so.
Shutting down.
Closing.
Dying.
Final visions
filtering themselves
from my eyes.
Who will I see
around the bed
when
I
swallow my
last gasp?
Should I be afraid?
Or should I
welcome the
death rattle
as a system of
release?
Free from
the sundry
incompleteness
of walking in this life.
Not having to
worry about
the
imperfection
of walking
on this planet.
As life drains
out of me,
what will be
my very last thought?
What final image
will I take with me
to the grave?
I pray it will be swift.
Absent from pain
and present
in God.