James Mclain Poet Lyric

In the Throes of Death

In the throes of Death — a Lull —
As if the Universe withdrew
Its Breath — to let the Mortal — feel
The Edges of the New —

It is not Punishment — to go —
Nor yet a minted Prize —
But something like a Corridor
Where Souls — may Realize —

That Growth — is not a Province held
By Childhood — nor by years —
But blossoms last — in furthest Frost
Unnoticed — by our Tears —

So when the Lantern — gutters low —
And Silence claims the Room —
Remember — Life is but a Seed
That opens — in the Tomb.

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