Dusk

He knew it was the last dusk he would see, and a grand one it was. He slowly turned his head to see every part of it, his very last sky, drawing it all in with a full breath.

He knew that morning. The weakness was too much, the nausea, pushing the tray of eggs and fruit aside. The idea of eating seemed irrelevant now; neither did he have thirst. Purging death, a final fasting, the soul will suffice. 

"A single sky may span a whole lifetime!", he said out loud, as the clouds of decades passed in order. It wasn't at all the doom or abject aloneness he had dreaded. Dusk took its time till he had his peace.