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Dying, in Perspective.
What do we see before it's over?
Bright lights flashing, drawing closer?
Does the world start to reduce in size,
to a tiny viewing hole before our eyes?

Do we open our eyes to endless black?
Or find ourselves on trial, hearing lists of all we lack?
Do we rise from our bodies and look on all around?
Or walk the earth, invisible through death's shroud?

I've heard tell...