The angels warn of the price of a moment’s heedlessness.
"Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel," they say.
But death beckons anyway, and in the end, it finds us all.
What matters, then, is that we go with eyes open,
Fearless into the abyss whence we came,
And knowing that we live, we die, and,
In the tangled syntax of the poet,
That death not ends it.