This is the end

Let God lead you to the end.
Let him hold you through death,
Change your appointed station
With your chances to repent.
Live and die with honors,
Worhip, question life
It seems too real
To be this fully true.
Sweep everything over
With withered hands
Until age itself
Repents its cold disdain
And unrepentant years.
Lie on feathery pillow.
This is the bed of death
Where all uncertainties
Are lifted,
And every measure of reality
Gives way to inner truth.