Paul Schneiter Poet Rhyme

Out of Touch

It isn’t fear of the unknown
That makes me quiver at dying.
It isn’t for sins I’m due to atone.
And it isn’t for tears and crying.

No, it’s the mind-mangling thought
Of being alone without you—
In dreamless emptiness wrought
It chills me through and through.

“You won’’t know it,” some explain.
And legions announce they’re right.
But it’s that idea that primes my pain:
Our love out of touch, out of sight.

It is useless to dwell on it, I know.
But when I embrace your charms
Something catches in my soul
And the future sounds dire alarms.

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Lindsay Laurie August 7, 2015 at 2:16 AM G'day Paul... very impressive poem. Certainly something we all muse over at some stage when we reflect on the future - Lindsay Paul Schneiter August 7, 2015 at 8:40 AM Thank you, Lindsay. It's separation from loved ones, not death itself, that--to me, at least--makes death so petrifying. I value and appreciate your comment, and I hope that life is treating you well.

Jan Allison August 6, 2015 at 6:34 PM I found this brought a lump to my throat Paul - such a touching write my friend:-) hugs jan xx 7 Paul Schneiter August 6, 2015 at 8:54 PM Thank you, Jan. Your continuing support and encouragement not just of me, but of all Soupers, is commendable. You have a charitable heart, which I regard as among the finest of virtues. Hugs, always.