The end

I feel the hands of Death caressing,
Stroking, searching, needing,
Wanting to make an end,
To my life of pretend. 
Yet every heart beat I feel,
The tightening ordeal,
The struggle to continue to live,
To overcome and survive.
Yet despair reigns his heavy hammer,
Amidst my minds chaotic clamour,
Reminding me of my mortal bonds,
Easily shorn off at the fronds.
What darkness awaits at lifes conclusion,
Leaves one delving in morbid seclusion,
Whilst anxiety, king of thought,
Rules unfettered and uncaught.
Nights of terrors sweat,
And beating heart from no threat,
Cleaves pain upon mortal frame,
Leaving clutching fingers grasping lame.
Awakened trepidation of death being near,
Draws silent mutterings of uncontrolled fear,
Uniting man with silent God listening,
That what awaits is not just Nothing! 
The end, the eternal black sleep,
The only true agitation that scares deep,
Where Heaven seems but a dream,
A lie to soothe the scared it would seem.

Forsooth a far better truth than reality
That gives life a meaning and...stability.