And so upon his last breath,
when only his certain death,
his past, and his thoughts remained,
he grinned. No he chuckled.
For his thoughts were not that of a dying man.
He did not dwell over his regrets
nor did he try to make peace with himself.
He had no epiphany,
for his end offered no punchline.
No great feeling swept over him,
no fear or sadness smothered him.

He chuckled
because he knew
he knew how mundane
this moment was.

He chuckled because he knew
of the endless number of events
he had set in motion,
of the countless connections he had made
and of their rippling consequences,
unpredictable and far-reaching
his end was only just that.