The speaker stares at his own body and accepts that it will one day decay and die. He studies his arms, his legs, even his smell, with the odd feeling that each look might be the last. That "perhaps for the last time, everytime" suggests that every ordinary moment of self-awareness carries a hint of farewell.
Then something shifts. He wakes "as if from a deep sleep," jolted by bells and a flash of light, and looks at his hands "in fear and wonder." Those two feelings sit side by side: death is frightening, but being alive in a body is also strange and marvelous.
The ending is short and almost playful. He says goodbye to his "sweet fingers" and "fond thumbs," as if they were old friends. Addressing small, familiar parts of himself makes death feel personal rather than abstract. The mood is quiet, tender, and a little startled, mixing sadness with affection and a sudden, sharp awareness of being alive.