The Transfer

A hand
Extends out
From black
Void.

It is rough,
Rugged and
Worn, like
An aging worry.

A voice
Out of nothing
Asks you to
Come forward.

"Put your
Hand on
Mine," it
Says.

You're afraid
But you reach
And set yours
On theirs anyway.

The room
Bursts into
A charade of
White lights.

Then everything
Goes dark and
You are once
Again alone.

"It is time,"
The voice
Echoes from
A far.

"Death isn't
Easy but you,
You took it
Just fine."

You float
Forever in
Darkness,
Resting finally
In peace;
Serenity.

You are
Free.