He was slipping into darkness,
terrified, not of death, but of pain.
He had been a man consumed
with all things “himself”
And not in the habit of apologizing
for his irreverent behavior,
Or for his lack of tact when confronted
with the whining of others.
Death had never held any sway over him.
He, early in his youth, had decided
That dying was inevitable and was his best hope
of escaping an unfathomable life.
However, his greatest desire had come to be
to die and find that he had been wrong.
A Hill resident, the author believes that the appreciation of art should not be influenced by the vagaries or prejudices of biography.