Poetry

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Barely is man alive before
Death comes to claim his bride.
Thus betrothed we must abide
Less willing, the groom to meet.

Death feigns to court us from the rift of
Time and space. He sends his gifts of
War and plague and violent shifts
His harvest soon to reap.

When the endless night does come and
Life upon the Earth is done
No place for wanton souls to run
Our maker soon we’ll meet.

If we die before we wake
We'll see we’ve made a grave mistake
Prayers, too little and much too late
Will find deaf ears to boot.

But, if we wake before we die and
Take the blinders from our eyes
We’ll see that death is but a lie and
Live to see the Truth.

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