At first, a shadow softly fell,
And then, a mark began to swell.
Suddenly, in hours or days,
A sign emerged in fleeting haze.
Thus appeared the shape of fate,
Irregular lines that would not abate.
However small it seemed to start,
It swiftly grew, a somber art.
Moreover, hues of red and black,
Joined by purple, yellow track.
Like a butterfly, or pear untamed,
Each curve a mystery, yet unnamed.
Consequently, its meaning clear,
The body’s final frontier near.
In addition to skin, a deeper sign,
Of failing organs’ fragile line.
Meanwhile, life continues on,
Until the light begins to yawn.
Although we see the dark advance,
The soul prepares its final dance.
Because of failing blood and air,
The tissues falter, stripped and bare.
Yet through this sign, we come to know,
The ebb of life’s eternal flow.
Ultimately, care takes gentle form,
Comfort offered through the storm.
As loved ones gather, time stands still,
For even now, there’s grace and will.
Therefore, Kennedy terminal ulcer speaks,
A silent marker of life’s dreams.
At last, the end draws soft and near,
And peace replaces pain and fear.
