Exit

I feel my exit

Deeper than I exist.

The impression is stronger than I can deny,

It drowns my entire being

And I must yield to it.

My rigor mortis is ripe

Like a pineapple in its season.

Is this a blessing or a curse?

That is one feature

I am not permitted to discuss.

My end blots out traces of my beginning.

Still I feel no distress

Cause I am perfected by its progress.

Akpan