It may be when all carousing is done
I’ll find myself back where I began,
one component in a cosmic union
or driftwood in an eternal ocean.

I have ordered up the diet of worms
from that fashionable Hall of Nothing
noted for its decor of wreaths and urns.

I’ve selected appropriate clothing,
so I’m confident I will look my best
before appearance is invisible.

After raucously trading shots with Death
I’ll be ready for the quiet and still.

My body is a hospice, not an inn,
nowhere to enjoy but one to die in.

– Duane Vorhees