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A healthy death's born when you grok that life's end
(Though no more than one second) might well be a friend,
Not a troll that hides under a bridge, out of sight,
Where it haunts the unwary, in shadows of light.

Though all see death coming, its shape stays unknown,
And for some, there's no warning, or rescue (a phone
Call, or warranty left) when life's ticket gets punched.
Is it knowledge or fear that your essence gets munched?

Who conjures life's pleasures, dreams self before birth
In advance of appearance (though mothered by earth)?
Or is life more a gift that one stumbles onto,
Just a vase potter's thrown, or a navy tattoo?

You dream you ‘forgot’ roles you played to get here,
Then complain to the sky of some 'death' that you fear?
I say death helps define who I am as a man!
What we see is one life. How is death not God's plan?

Yes! Logic obeyed! Days that rise, nights that fall,
And man creates his home through the mist of it all!
How can death then be certain? Is death a bride's veil
That will part in due time? How can Love not prevail?

You've questions unanswered; who fathoms God's rhyme?
All that matters still hangs on vast looms of space-time.
Or did you dream this too? Child of star's death! Whose wife?
Your mom's dead! Whore! No husband! And you chose this life?

If Judgment is real, what's your plan? Cop a plea?
Though your life's 'rape and pillage,' destroyed enemy
Who begged mercy in vain? When you hoard what you win
Far beyond human need! You've fantastic chagrin!

Though life has its perils, you’ve gardens to tend,
The most beautiful snowflake’s dreams melt in the end,
But life does have a purpose; we ripen with age!
Just blind faith man’s soul blossoms when we leave this stage?


Brian Johnston
31st of May in 2019

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