Let death come, not helplessness

Something flutters inside my chest.

Perhaps there is no creature stranger
than man in all this universe.
Man's capacity to endure
far exceeds that of any other being.

I lack the strength to bear
the landscape within man.
When man grows old, he becomes so helpless...
literally,
not even a child is so helpless—
for a child still stirs compassion,
as if humanity yearns
to embrace new life's stirring...

Is it man's natural instinct to abandon the past?
That pulse of life fading toward extinction...
why make such a fuss over it anymore!

Yet in this space where the elderly
are so easily turned into burdens...
the body seeks its silent covenant.

This human body
after a certain time—
serves no purpose at all.
The blood cells racing through the body
begin to slow their relentless pace.

Where do I go now with this numb body?
Why don't you burn me?
How much longer will this useless flesh drag on?

With what measure of fortune must one be born
so that later—
God silently draws away this powerless body?
So one needn't spend the final hours as a burden to others?