Death... what is it? 

reality or illusion? 

Light or dark?.... 

I ask myself, what is death? 

I have read both script and poem, 

seen both theater and film and yet, 

a question still dances in my brain like a moth within the light.... 

what is death but a dream? 

Or, is it life that is the dream?

 How can one be certain, when so little is.... 

yes I ask myself many questions as I stare at these empty cold walls, my only friends.... 

And I know, I will never have an answer for such a question, 

for there is none to be found that don't lie within yourself, 

and I am a enigma, tiny and small. 

yes I ask myself questions, 

such as what is death, soulless eyes that while will never hold light I do believe hold keys, 

but that is not for me to know and only to wonder no matter how many night I must wake. 

For I am human, and death is but one more question in the darkness of night that I shall never answer.