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Poem

What is life now but the knowledge of death?
…the inevitable foreshadowing of oblivion, 
Rendered in shifting shades of grey on a desultory canvas, 
And scented with the musty odor of dusty bones, of mildew, 
Like winter smoke twining into my nostrils in ribbons of 
Scented decay…
What is life now but a slowly mounting misery?
…the proverbial impending doom, fearing my reflection 
In mirrors, shying away from the sun, shunning company,
And love and laughter and life, in case the knives of bitterness 
Slice too deep when I have to give it all up…
What is life now but losing myself in music?
…living vicariously through the heartening metronomic rhythm 
Of drums, being buoyed by the giddy soaring riffs of a guitar 
That speaks more resonantly than any human voice, finding 
Solace in maudlin melodies, in the roar of defiant cries…
What is life now but stumbling reluctantly down memory lane, 
Seeing His face clear and pure as the driven snow, tasting his kiss, 
Remembering the tickle of his hair on my cheek, and the way 
He made me feel more alive than life itself ever could…
What is life now? Just this…
…a waiting game, a chess match, a test of wills…me versus the Reaper, dancing 
Our demonic jig, vying for every breath…his skeletal hands round my 
Neck, a bony noose…his hollowed out eyes, his gaping smile, his whispers 
Of the grave
And still some stubborn fragment of me dares to hope, to clasp 
These feeble hands in prayer, and plead for rescue, for some small 
Shard of succor…for the angel I never met to come to me at last, 
A savior on gilded wings, with a smile on his rosebud lips…

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