He thinks he might just rest a while
and close the open port.
A mind too full becomes fragile,
when stoked too much by thought.
But then if thought is stifled
or worse, sinks to be drowned,
who’ll pass on all the marvels
that in his head he found?
Such wonders only shown to him,
he’s buckled by their weight
he’d rather sink instead of swim
so one last sup, such sweet intake.
Hoping in that final breath
his mind imparts some lasting will,
and somehow lives beyond his death
to resonate by living, still.