the deed to my end has been purchased

An irony teeming in life:
the personal choice of existence devoid in the creation of self,
yet the possession of the sinful ability to bring it to an end.

Lost are we in the divine decision to conceive,
yet that same divinity will cast us to the depths;
eternal despair, desolation, and damnation
through the autonomic hand of deaths delusion.

The desire for an end,
[think not the mechanism through melancholy and insanity]
such that the ebb and flow no longer justify an earthly existence,
when life, which was created in divinity has gone awry.
[What then mighty mitral?]

When tissue and genome run amok,
the ethereal architecture dissolved and diseased,
metastatic and pleomorphic as the seedlings spread roots
far beyond the grasp of vascular surveillance.
Suffering for the sins of the acid core,
and the translation of truncated oncogenic abnormality.

Why then should one wait for the fetid end?
Paying the debt owed in creation?
Baring the cross of heavenly transit?

Eternities road is not my burden,
nor my cross to bare!
The deed to my end has been purchased,
the financial transaction as the crown breached the womb.

a reality of fallability

I ponder now upon this state,
a former position,
that of the humbled man;
a reality of fallability.

One moment the master of minutia,
the next, silenced by the hand of genetic correlation
and the dominant inheritance calculation.

Yet, I bask now in the wisdom of those around me,
who speak of faculties needed far beyond the utility
of aneuploidy.

The word of a confidant-lover,
a friend and collegue,
can lift a broken man above the deletion in spirit.

Be it bleeding scarlet or burned on the whites
of pulp and paper,
I once again see the banality of a letter,
the jaded belief of eternity guilded,
in the biased singular extension of limitless destiny!