Nowhere to run

No mystery that thought of death brings dread —
Our ancestors, five hundred million years,
Were ousted from the gene pool if their fears
Once failed; no progeny issue from the dead.

We hear from others who’ve confronted fate—
When death is ineluctable and near,
A sudden and complete relief from fear
Can morph into a loving, blissful state.
So fear of death is in our DNA —
It’s no more rational than fear of change.
And yet, we judge it not the least bit strange
That knowing this can’t make it go away.

Love, power, money, everything we chase
In vain, until at last we pray for grace.