One day or night each of us shall

Fall off the cliff edge of life

Into a black hole of our own

Making. Whirling and swirling

For aeons we negotiate a return,

Like Jacob Marley's ghost, we

Plead to be allowed to make

Recompense. We are told

By the conductor our ticket

Is one-way only. Too late.

Too late to plead forgiveness

For our sins of commission 

And our more terrible sins

Of omission. The thoughtless

Hurts, the sullen moods, the

Constant emphasis on the self, 

The blighted chances to be kind,

To be generous. Petrified by fear

Of death  Medusa's snakes

lost their grip, her charms declined

and I was free. The coward dies

Many times, the brave just the once

 

.https://youtu.be/Lxc3O4mQV74

I will welcome my transformation.