Before the monument of death

The cycles of the lonely sun
Give way to an awaited pause;
Before the monument of death
It too deserves its solitary end
With dread – a burst of the desire to stay,
With struggle – just a faint glimpse to the night,
With pain at heart – the echo of the passing tides –
The end will come, and no-one ever did betray the end
To keeping a companion, or a heart.
Before the monument of death, alone,
All rest awhile and then depart and pass
Like leaves from one small tree, now lost apart,
Without a brother or a parent, or grandson,
Or teacher, or a guide, or sage,
Or any other man or beast to take them by the hand,
Only the boatman, who, for two coins thrown
Will speak no word and take the last, and least
From footsteps nigh, beyond the monument of death,
Alone