Life Or Death?

Motionless I lay,

On freshly laundered sheets,

Now stained bright red with the blood from my aged body.

I shiver as I feel the cold spreading on my skin,

Overcoming,

The gentle warmth of several hands desperately trying to fix me,

And the tears from several eyes unconditionally praying for me.

I give in to a developing heaviness,

My eyelids close; 

But to my surprise, I can still see, as a white light glows.

I see a pristine land not so far away,

Surrounded by the ocean,

And filled with trees.

I see people, unlike me,

Who can walk through the majestic greens,

Swim in the rich blues;

With eyes that do not struggle to see,

With a mind that does not unwillingly drown in sorrow,

With bodily joints that do not sinfully hurt with each step,

With a chest that does not pound unrelentingly with every breath.

A tiny dark figure emerges,

asking me to follow it.

But can I?

For I would leave behind a familiar land,

With people who would be simmering with hurt.

My son,

Who is holding my hand,

Like I held his when I took him to school.

My daughter,

Who is tugging on my shabby pocket,

Like she did when she learnt how to walk.

My partner,

Who is holding my head in her arms

Like I cradled hers the night we met.

The time ticks on,

My heart begins to cramp;

I have to decide.

Should I be selfless and live, so people can joyfully love? Or,

Can I be selfish and die, if I have had enough?