Death

"Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee..." (Luke 12:20)

I cannot sleep.
Who knows but that I may not wake up again?
Death is swift and sudden.
I run fast, but Death runs faster.
Though we spend our lives in trying to cheat him,
He will win at the end.

A robed skeleton?
No - rather death is a cloud.
A cloud of fear and hate; urine and sweat.
A cloud that touches us all.
Even the new born bears it.

A cloud with poisoned fangs.
It strikes at any moment.
At any one.
The newborn, the man in his prime,
The grandfather, the new parent
All are subject to him.
He may take any at whim.

We struggle in the dirt.
We try to rise to the heights,
To carve our names in the sky,
To write "I am here! I live still!"
But he gets us all in the end.
The woman having plastic surgery,
She thinks to delay him,
But he is like a tidal wave
No force we possess can stop him.

This day, this night, this minute
He may be calling out my name.
This very night he may come for me
Or you, he will surely come for some this night.

While we may try
To live as though he will not come,
"Live fast, die young"
May be our motto
But we know
All of us
He will come, and we will go
Screaming into the dark
Shouting "I cannot die!"
All in vain.

Vanity, vanity, saith the Preacher,
Our pretensions to life are vanity.
We strut like peacocks
When we should weep like mourners
We are powerless
Death is King.
And God?
What does HE do?