Mar 13

His Death Bed

If you swore to me as you swore to God 
that you would never die; and you would live
until the earth shattered and bestowed seven
millennia of bad luck unto the next civilization;
I pray you to concede with your final breath of air.

Unleash the paranoia riddled in your chattering bones;
unfurrow your brow of this deep-seated stress;
unburden your shoulders of this laden loathing and shame; 
unsully your soul with these sanctified touches of my own.
There is no need to lie once it has been done.

It will depart us momentarily then we will reconcile
back in heaven; your swear will no longer be yours to bear.
Allow it to embrace you as does grass when it welcomes the first snow;
as does a frightened mother when she shields her bruised child from her father.
I promise there will be nothing more once it has been done.