Philip Larkin on the fear of death…

[CLICK IMAGE TO ENLARGE]

This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear — no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anaesthetic from which none come round.

— from “Aubade” by Philip Larkin

BONUS LINK:

Philip Larkin’s almost perfect poem by A.N. Wilson