Death

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Itís obviously macabre to keep  talking about death.

Oh! There you go, Iím at it again!

Why have I become so preoccupied with death?

Because Iíve just reached three score years and ten.

 

 And that's supposed to be life's ration you know.

I shouldn't expect to get very much more.

I should really start getting organised,

As I  slowly approach death's dark door.

I just donít know whatís waiting for me,

And I'm not allowed to take a prior look.

Itíll be a very chastening experience,

Like turning a page of a completely new book.

 

Will it be a clean sheet, or will it be marked,

With the sins of my former time?

Will I be forced to relive them all,

Or will I move into a happier clime?

 

Will I be greeted with a clarion call,

In a vast auditorium full of bright light?

Or will I be awakened by deathís dark drum,

As on another route I might have to alight?

 

Will all my friends and relatives be there,

When I take up my heavenly berth?

They'll be in a different form, because,

Their bodies have blended into the earth!

 

But Iíll know them by the size of their souls.

Although mine will be somewhat scarred.

I wouldnít be surprised, when I get to the gates,

If I find that, to me, theyíve been barred.

 

For my life has been filled with sin after sin.

Iíve broken every rule in the book.

For me thereís little chance of redemption.

Iíll be told to go away and sling my hook!

 

I know that mum and dad will intercede,

And my brothers may put in a plea.

My wife of course canít say a word.

Because sheís unlikely to get there before me!

 

And thereís not much point in saying sorry,

I should have said that so long ago.

In fact I shouldnít have committed those sins.

And Iím likely to get the old Ďquid pro quoí.

 

Are we reassigned to earth in a very different form,

As an insect or a sub species of some kind?

And will we be reprogrammed in some special way,

To make sure that we donít really mind?

 

One thing is for sure thereís a presence out there.

I feel it close at an introspective time.

It chides me when I do any little thing wrong.

Iím not saying this to make the verse rhyme.

 

I know that thereís a power in the universe

And that many words have been written in the sand.

We havenít arrived accidentally on earth.

This colossal exercise has been very well planned.

 

I must have been put here for a purpose.

But itís a purpose that I donít understand

Like being asked to man a spacecraft

Without an instruction book in my hand.

 

So Iíve played it by ear almost all of my life,

Because it isnít all over just yet.

Thereís still the odd game plan mapped out for me.

Can you pass them over before I forget!

 

Look, Iíve levelled with you and told it straight.

It hasnít come out of the blue.

Is there someone out there who can give me advice,

And tell me just what to do?

 

I donít want to get there unprepared do you see?

Iíve got to put up a reasonable show.

I donít want a heavenly thumb to be turned down.

Or to be told that Iíve got nowhere to go.

 

Surely thereís someone who knows the score?

Maybe a mystical, erudite man,

Whoís studied the subject assiduously,

And who can outline the heavenly plan.

 

Iíd feel so much better knowing what is in store.

Iíd be so much happier too!

But Iíve got the feeling that Iíll be kept in the dark.

No advice is going to get through.

 

Look, Iíll make a final statement to you,

I could be just a little bit scared.

If you know anything at all, just let me know.

And help me to be properly prepared.

  By Parth Way.

 

  Author: Trevor Durbidge   Copyright © 2001 [TJD].   All rights reserved.    Revised: October 30, 2007 .

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