Mindfully

Perhaps the time will rush right by
Perhaps it will be all too soon
When I exit the afternoon
And enter night. I cannot lie:
I feel the worry, when I die
That nothingness is not a boon,
And, like the sadly moaning loon,
I fear the end and what is nigh.
But maybe life is long enough
To make the mind forget that woe
And in the time allotted grow
To become made of sterner stuff
And look at death and say "I know."
But right now thinking that is tough.