A man who knows
He will die
How does a moment look
Different to him
Than the analytical
Lost man in the screen
Who pines about machines
Even eluding
That he is machine
How does his cup of coffee taste
Different
Is it different when
The wind blows
The rain starts
The seasons change
The sun goes down
In a day or 3 years
Sandwiched between
Now and infinity
A man who knows
He will die