Death is the Path to Awe....

[veritas]

“What do you want me to wear to your funeral?”
-Andromeda @ 7/21/14

I do not remember when it started happening exactly,
The thought and I tango, yet it never attacks me.
Seldom has it asked me, for my opinion is taxing,
It’s riddling is a taxi, and I play a fare in the backseat.
To an affair in the air where the paths meet
If there’s a care, its “prepare” for the fams weak
And ego be like: “what’ll compare to seeing your fans weep”?
This spans deep, from a slow creep, to synchromysticism and dreams,
Because we are all blind to after it, yet swear upon the purpose of its means.
Freud would call it Thanatos, my sub-con self-fulfilling an omen,
Like both a barbarian and comedian sharing the name Conan.
So I see it as serendipity, the universe preparing me for the flight,
And there is nothing more human than to fight this thought’s fright.
See the warriors of ancient times, who would meditate upon it constantly,
for the ways of the fear of death acts as a toxic epoxy glossary.
That stick to and hinder the Spirit’s escape velocity,
We will never elevate until we accept the fate our bodies see.
So…
Tell me that I have regrets and don’t appreciate my blessing,
Tell me that I am weak, and seek only to end my stressing.
Tell me that I should not want this, or that I am a great measure of foolish,
Then sell me debt so that I may enjoy life upon it’s pleasure cruises.
Or that thinking about my own death is proof that I’m merely useless,
But allow me a few more lines to elucidate as to what the truth produces:
I don’t want to die, I just have accepted that one day I will,
So I make the most of life, and then on Sunday I chill.
It makes me live in the moment, and if I wrong then I’ll own it,
Because this could be my last day, so any of that stress, why tote it?
Words have a limit too, so when I speak, make sure its worthy when quoted,
Every day I pray for mercy, knowing my sin’s atonement.
And if I died today, would I want it wasted away being loaded?
Ironic that I expose death as this muses’ main motive.
Death’s acceptance makes me appreciate my life,
Helping others, my kids, the Corgi, and my wife.
The mind that has accepted that it’s time has an end will gain purpose,
My studies have shown that most have absolutely no idea what this earth is.
Perhaps this is different from most VERITAS verses?
Relapse: the worst reserved hurts are dispersed from deserved herses.
The Facts: We all die, and many who choose to not even think about it,
Live in a manner which seeks it, which contradicts it doubted.
They be like: “YOLO!” but waste life away with their minds clouded,
Scared of the inevitable, yet fronting like bout it bout it.
So in closing let me summarize:
A man cannot truly live until he accepts that he dies.

[Fig]

First off, good title. The word awe itself is indicative of the divine, because it is dual (fear and fascination) yet singular in nature. This divine state is reached by escaping temporal existence as humans, and in that way, our own duality.

anyways

I do not remember when it started happening exactly,
The thought and I tango, yet it never attacks me.
Seldom has it asked me, for my opinion is taxing,
It’s riddling is a taxi, and I play a fare in the backseat.
To an affair in the air where the paths meet
If there’s a care, its “prepare” for the fams weak

im not sure if "play" was a spelling mistake or subtle word play in the fourth line, but the simile was decent. The intro makes this easy to get into, and it is clear from the beginning that the wording in this piece is more clear and concise than that of your other works. The last line i quoted here wasnt very clear in its meaning.

And ego be like: “what’ll compare to seeing your fans weep”?
This spans deep, from a slow creep, to synchromysticism and dreams,
Because we are all blind to after it, yet swear upon the purpose of its means.

dope. might be my favorite lines out of this drop.

Freud would call it Thanatos, my sub-con self-fulfilling an omen,
Like both a barbarian and comedian sharing the name Conan.
So I see it as serendipity, the universe preparing me for the flight,
And there is nothing more human than to fight this thought’s fright.
See the warriors of ancient times, who would meditate upon it constantly,
for the ways of the fear of death acts as a toxic epoxy glossary.
That stick to and hinder the Spirit’s escape velocity,
We will never elevate until we accept the fate our bodies see.

did not enjoy "toxic epoxy glossary" tbh, although you did carry the thought into the next line. Ive enjoyed this type of dense rhyming from you in the past, but here it distracts from the meaning, and im not even sure of the word 'glossary's' association in this case.

The weakest points in this piece come when you elaborate to much on a concept. I enjoyed the first half more than the second for this reason.

A man cannot truly live until he accepts that he dies.

I don’t want to die, I just have accepted that one day I will

The mind that has accepted that it’s time has an end will gain purpose

Its just that this second half was a lot more plain stated, and although i understand you do that for comprehensions sake, it can get preachy.

Thanks for the read

[UnbornBuddha]

I really liked this. The wording of it felt smooth. I for one enjoy your diction. Although I would like to see yourself challenge yourself by having a more complex rhyme scheme, while of course not sacrificing the meaning you are trying to entail, and rightfully impart to us.
My favorite lines were also the one's Figurative highlighted.
"And ego be like: “what’ll compare to seeing your fans weep”?
This spans deep, from a slow creep, to synchromysticism and dreams,
Because we are all blind to after it, yet swear upon the purpose of its means."

My only vilifying critique will be that at the end you started getting a bit repetitive, in terms of what your message. This is not a bad thing, but it will be nice to see you branch, and explore 's death pathway. Why should death be sought out in acceptance?
In exploring this, maybe you can emphasize a mythological story like King Yama, who faces you when you die, and without judgement puts you in the realm that one has cultivated in their life. Perhaps into the gripping cold abyss of the Naraka's.

So a bit more imagery, and navigation into what your writing. This will of course, deem some form of researching, of pondering, but you already do that it seems, considering the way you've programmed your insights into poetry. But it's just a meekly suggestion of mine, I most certainly enjoyed your prose.