Dulcius ex Asperis.

Maybe Death comes knocking
when Time has left you behind,
when all hope is gathered
in a pile
awaiting E10 climate-saving petrol
to infuse
and succumb to the Eternal Fire,
if ever a light or spark be found…

or

maybe Death comes
looking for the low hanging fruit
left as Time withered and waned,
unknowingly pilfering the last truth
known to man: a fruit – any fruit
tastes sweeter when picked;
Death knows only bitter ends
to birth, life, and our ultimate
sacrifice: like fruit, our decay
is not remembered, no struggle
or sweet moment recorded
for prosperity, we leave nothing,
heading towards nothing,
no sweet dreams after the struggle:
Death’s an empty bowl of soup,
life without ladle, spoon, or hope.