An ode to the dead

On this crazy Friday night
I saw her
losing it.

Whatever they say
it wasn't a fight.

Three straight days
and the nights that followed,
as the end was nearing
death herself mellowed.

what happens to the race
when you just stop running,
when eyes stop blinking
and the mind is the being.

I hope it was easy
I hope it was fun
though i still see you here
you are already with The One.

- to the moth who met her end this evening after four days of stillness.