Once upon a time, the river Styx called to the man. He shook his fist defiantly, and shouted back

I’m not dead yet

You can not have me!

The boatman heard,

 and smiled knowingly before raising his sail, continuing onwards.

The man fought against the pull, 

striving to return to the light, 

the warmth from above.

He had so much to return for

loved ones, 

deeds left undone.

He wasn’t ready,

it couldn’t be time.

But even as he fought, Charon drew inexorably closer, powered by the souls of those who filled the sails

The man struggled, powerless to resist,

drawn as though a magnet to a lodestone 

Do you have your fare?

The boatman held out a withered hand, 

awaiting his coin

The man tried to back away, shaking with denial and fear

No! I have nothing. It’s not time yet.

But somehow without looking, a coin had appeared in his palm,

Shiny in the light from the lantern, glittering in the dark night

It was too late, the man realized, feeling his fight slip away.

He silently passed the coin, 

climbed on board, 

looking sadly out over the stern as the ship sailed on

The unfinished business that tied him to the world behind 

sliding through the wake, disappearing into the water

Flowers on the casket while a woman wept,

An obulus in his left hand, sleep eternal as the dirt is spread