How Do We Die?

How do we die?    
Shouldn’t it be like  
entering a large empty room,    
darker than any darkness we’ve known?  
   
Does the mind hum with thoughts in those moments    
after the body ceases? Does it hover above us    
like a spirit, sorting and filing every moment of our life    
so that we’re ready to enter the silence?  
Does this hovering of the mind give rise to    
rumors of life after death?    
   
Will I feel the touch of favorite lovers?    
Will I see my daughter’s face?    
Will I taste my father’s lusts and know past hurts in that final sorting,  
or will I remember only the joys of life?  
   
Do those passions that sustained us in life, sustain us somehow    
in our final moments? Is the singer lifted in song    
as she passes the threshold?    
   
I smile and wish that the soft purr of orgasm    
would accompany me in my crossing.    
I’d look deep into that darkness and feel the    
cascading of pleasure through my center once more    
before pouring out all that I am or might have become.