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Hemlock? Or Are There Options?

There are poisons we relish and those we despise,
but most innocent breaths, the clear water we drink,
have a role in life’s probable end game, I think.
We are dying from birth; most plagues plans we devise!

Oh, does sucrose make sweeter the strychnine we sip
or are volcano’s shrapnel, hot gases, and ash
(that may fertilize futures whose crops we can’t cash
out), real gifts to the present? Do Gods (man gives lip

or gives lip service to) have their seasons as well?
Christian God at first jealous (perhaps He was vain),
with Christ’s death models “service,” if that role’s man’s gain,
(but with heaven so dicey, tough logic to sell!)

Might the “Kingdom of God” plant its seeds in life’s realms?
What’s the chance faith’s the soil they require to mature?
You dream life’s all there is, and claim faith’s just manure?
Tell me, Nature’s or Nurture’s how life overwhelms?

Should philosophers ponder if hemlock was choice
or a fate beyond logic that Socrates met?
We all know we will die! Is death choice we can vet?
All roads lead us to Rome, but if you had a voice

would quick death (like a stroke) or old age be preferred?
Let my mantra be this since my death seems a fact
I must face in the end, “let me greet death with tact,
serve to orchestrate grace” till the day I’m interred.

I can doubt God exists while I hope that One does,
dream to feel less a fool when I trust this is true!
If I’m ‘married’ to Faith friend, I swear so are you,
for those needing a reason, heart answers, “because!”


Long Tooth
July 5th in 2020

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