I’d climb the walls of Hell to see
myself as Death had last glimpsed me.
I’d sell my soul if I could know
the way I faced him, brave or no?
I’d ask the Devil if he’d tell,
did Terror find me where I fell?
Ten years of life I’d gladly trade
if I could only die afraid.
If I could die afraid I would.
Death ought be feared, not understood.
If I can die afraid I will,
and then be sure that Life was real.
I’ll leave this dream as dreamers must
and wake a grain of sand in dust,
knowing thence as all Life does
that I am not, and never was.
No greater Hell can I conceive:
not having been from whence I leave.
Rather give me one more drink
of Terror as I cease to think.
If I could die afraid I would.
Death ought be feared, not understood.
If I can die afraid I will,
and then be sure that Life was real.
