Whisper of Death
My life spirals ever downward...
The grave taunts me with its laugh.
Death's bony fingers are affixed my throat
As the jester of my unmerited epitaph.
My angst at my ever-flounder appears
Well-earned and justly placed
Where the rabid minions of an avenging God
Will no doubt make bold of my disgrace.
Have I lived too long a life so plain
Where my soul was too confined
And any realistic hope of eternal bliss
Seems mere folly at this time?
To live too long is an old Man's curse
And bound to evoke some industry
Where best intentions are set adrift...
To partake sweet ecstasy.
These stains that commemorate my Earthly Sins
Are laid denuded for all to see.
I drag them unceremoniously into an afterlife
That may not wish to bolster me.
But who among us hasn't stumbled
With Death's foot ajar the door
With temptations strewn like pearled oysters
On life's repugnant shores?
The righteous path is straight and narrow
And a vehicle for all those bold and brave
But only appeared crucial and strategic as
I stand with one foot in the grave.
How happier were those days gone by
When I was young and free from vice.
If I had only maintained such vernal guileless
To insure a place in paradise.
But I have come to this conclusion
As Death's whisper slakes my soul with dread.
Too much time has been my nemesis and any
Last minute burbling is better left unsaid.
So at this hour... this late late hour...
I now confront an awful truth.
I might have had a better chance at Heaven...
Had I perished in my youth.
The End
Ever-flounder: A bad situation of one's own making.
*I wrote this poem from the perspective of someone who fears their sins are
too heavy for God to bear.
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your uncle.
Copyright © David Mchattie | Year Posted 2021
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