This is a science fiction poem about expectations. It was written using iambic tetrameter and couplets.

My fight against this cancer mass
Is ending soon, and I will pass,
Or, more precisely, I will die,
And neither hell nor heaven high
Will take my life—I will not be,
The real is only what we see,
For I’m an atheist in truth,
A path I’ve taken since my youth.

When cancer wins, I will return
To nothing, though my body burn
To ashes, though my wife recall
My face, while pacing through the hall;
And faded photos, memories—
I will exist in only these.

The end is here, I’m feeling sick,
But suddenly—is this a trick?—
My mind is feeling free like air,
I have no pain, I’m everywhere!

But just as suddenly, it ends,
My senses fall, awareness blends
Into a body, strangely stiff.
Is this a dream? But oh, what if…
Hallucinations from my brain
Are fooling me as I remain
Confined to bed and still alive,
My breathing done, I am deprived
Of oxygen, my brain refills
My senses with new psychic thrills…

But no! Within my hand I find
A gun! And in my battered mind
I feel the need to take a life,
My conscience never knew this strife;
Contention in my mind appears,
The devil laughs and jibes and jeers;
He knows that he will win at last,
My better nature is outcast.

Now all around, I see my peers,
And this just serves to stoke my fears;
Inside the room, the cyborgs stand,
All heeding what their masters planned;
We know our task, it gives us joy,
To seek the foe and fast destroy;
And what was left of human care
Evaporates into thin air.

At last the doors are opened wide,
We take one look and run outside;
The world out here has not a clue
About our plans or what we’ll do…


Reinmachination [ri:’ɪn mæ’ʃɪ neɪ’ʃən] = reincarnation + machine

(written c. July 2019)