A second of infinite sorrow
Always a choice at a fair price
A door awaits beyond the morrow
To wash clean the endless pain
Knowing; choices; so many
Till now never truly seeing
It could only ever lead to this
A final one word manifesto
The opus of a life lived well
Did all before this matter?
From here it never did
Born out of every moment
And this moment is simply this.
Stoic Poetry