Sonnet

Some have left no memory.
And disappeared as though they had not existed.
Hamilton Hill is a place to tarry.
In memory men of faith executed.

I fear the grim reaper’s might.
But death is merely a dark tunnel.
You come into it from hazy light.
You emerge from it into eternity’s bright channel.

At the entrance is pain and fear.
In the middle it is utterly dark.
Then you see a speck of light as you shed a last tear.
You emerge where no one cares if you have left a mark.

So I promise I will not fear my passing.
Then I forget and again start worrying.

Haiku

Death is a tunnel
Light at the start and at end
Black in the middle