Photo Have a Nice Day

Photo Have a Nice Day
Have a Nice Day

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Death with Shelly Kagan


1 comment:

  1. A Dialogue With Death...
    Copyright 2009 Michael Gibbowr
    Dedicated to the WW II Generation
    who literally Saved Democracy
    Defeated Fascism, Imperialism
    and Tyranny on a Global Scale

    * Death... where is thy Victory?
    Where is thy Sting?
    Thou hast tempted and tormented
    But no solace dost bring

    Reaper of Souls...
    Be they Honored or damned
    Why hast thou lingered...?
    Who bids thy command...?

    Twilight Of days...
    Who's rest dost thou steal...?
    Whilst weary I wait...
    When wilst thou reveal...

    The hour of day
    Thou comest to call...?
    That fate may at last
    Her bidding befall...

    How long must I linger...?
    How long must I yearn...?
    Whilst ravaged by time
    As each breath I spurn

    *Son of Man... from Dust thou hast come
    To Dust Wilst return...
    Thy Pride and thy Glory
    Why dost thou spurn...?

    Time enough... and Thy Veil will fall...
    Why dost thou bid me to call...?
    Why squander thine hours in contempt...?
    Why wouldest thou mine Anger Tempt...?

    Think me a blood thirsty predator
    And thy mortality mine prey...?
    Think me dismal... a menace...
    With thine Hopes held at bay...?

    Why defilest thy crown
    With morbid array...?
    Why scornest ancestry
    With contemptible display...?
    Hearken O man to mine Counsel This Night
    Thy Portion 'tis Favored what'er be Thy Plight
    Take heed Son of Dust to which thou shalt return
    Trouble me Not 'til it be thy Turn...!

    *Reaper of Men... I wouldest thou glean
    The yield of mine years... no longer green
    This Harvest I offer... with no remorse...
    For the Fruit of Mine Labors... have run their course

    O Death, look not to mine frailties...
    Thine Anger... Kindle not at mine pleas...
    For weary am I...
    Of Life's wretched disease

    Master of The Valley of Shadows...
    Liken to the snuff of a candle gone out...
    I bid thee extinguish mine light...
    That I might pursue mine ancestors route...

    O Guardian of The Seventh Seal
    Thy calling 'tis Fatal and Grim
    Thy Purpose unflinching
    Whilst mine eyes ever grow dim

    Why then, ought such as I tarry...
    To wither with each passing day...?
    Wouldest mine hour of Judgment
    Thus hasten without delay...

    *Son of Dust... Misguided art Thou...
    To Measure Thy Days as a Field Put to Plow
    Think Not in such Trivial, Troublesome Terms
    Nor Vex Thyself with Temporal Concerns

    Knowest not, Thou Art The Envy of Eternal Hosts
    That Thy Crown and Thy Glory art Treasured Most
    Amongst the Guardians of Thy dwelling place
    Who See the Spark of Creation Upon Thy Face

    Seed of Woman... Why seekest thou solace within thy grave...?
    Where be the once Noble and Brave...?
    He that would fight for Honor and Truth
    He that embraced vigor and youth...

    Light of The World... let not thine eyes grow dim
    Whose Spark and Sustenance be Found Within
    Think Not Thine Years a Burden to Bear
    Nor Thy Knowledge, Thy Wisdom, Nor Compunction to Care
    Hearken O man... to that which I Speak...
    Thy years... are yet Thine to Keep...
    Though thy beard be gray... and thy step be slow...
    This Be Not The Night...Thou art Fated to Go...

    Thus Honor and Duty, Bid Thee Thy Part
    To Teach, to Admonish, With All of Thine Heart
    The Young, the Naive, the Fragile of Spirit
    So Tempt Me No More... Thy Calling... Fulfill it...!
    ~

    ReplyDelete