If you could choose how your life ends, how would want to go?

Now... and at the Hour of my Death

I have been here before
I know these rocks, this dust
that withered tree.
I have felt this sun
and cast my shadow on this ground.

Where my shadow falls
now
there will I fall
at the hour of my death,
and my blood will stain the sand.

I pass this way often.
That tree
will mark my passing,
these rocks my gravestones,
and my bones a bleached memorial.

Where my shadow falls
now
my blood will spread,
in the minute of my dying
and the hour of my death.

This is the road I use
between
my life and oblivion.
This is the place
my journey's end.

This is the ditch
where
I will fall to a bullet's
impersonal cruelty,
an insignificant casualty.

This is the time
now
and at the hour of my death
time will end and my blood
will wash away this sand.