The Final Retribution!

A dark swathe obscures the life,
It is but a disguise of what’s to occur.
Perception of the events to follow become clear,
Yet, the mind becomes a blur.
Reminiscence of everything leading up to that moment
Flashes past in quick succession.
It is the void that fills up after,
When one can be au fait with the realization.

What is life, but a parody?
A stage set for existence.
The audience is its maker,
Who gives neither ovation nor an appearance.
The true nature of life one knows not.
Nor is it clear what is in store.
One lives to die; a verity.
But can one die to live anymore?

The realm, an enigma, one knows not what it holds,
The trepidation itself is its strongest grasp.
The key to this corporeal obliteration
Lies in the life for one to clasp.
Recompense sought all the way through.
Such is the raison d'être for termination.
The exploits trailed and bequeathed in existence,
C’est le Créateur’s final retribution!