Month: November 2022

Hold me now
or like a moth I’ll fly,
But right into the black
I don’t know why.

Unable to veer from
The wide gaping maw;
An arrow here I come,
Straight into Death’s jaw

I soar not towards
But from all things away.
Yesterday, today, tomorrow;
All the same.

I am not brave.
Nor do I fear.
The known, the unknown;
No difference here.

I’ll fly
but not for the fun
I’ll fly
too close to the sun

I’ll drift
And land where I will
I’ll shift
And my soul shall spill

Not much
That’s not bitter pill.
All is such;
Ground through the mill.

So get busy;
Scurry with fury all about.
Make meaning in a tizzy,
Before Death sighs, “Lights out.”

Too soon brittle
And bitter-aged you’ll grow.
Better get on with every little,
Before He turns the lamp down low.

It’s a one-act play,
A tragedy to be sure.
While there’s light, make your hay;
Reaper’s coming with the cure.

Run if you will,
Pray for stone walls.
There’s nowhere to hide,
Grim comes for us all.