A ConversationA Poem by Bob BI heard a knock upon the door. “A knock so late at night?” I felt a strong presentiment That something wasn’t right.
Toward the door I inched my way And stood with bated breath. I opened it, and there I stood-- Face to face with Death.
He said, “Don’t let me bother you. It isn’t TOO late, is it? I was in the neighborhood And thought I’d pay a visit.”
“Death, be gone! I am not ready For eternal sleep.” And quoting Frost, I told him I had “Promises to keep.”
“Once you’re gone, that won’t matter,” He said. “And furthermore, The only thing that matters is What’s happened heretofore.”
“That’s not true,” I told him. “There is Always much to do. Karmic causes and effects Bring constant revenue.
“By revenue I do not mean Individual worth; I mean how our actions help To benefit dear Earth.”
“Poor thing,” said Death. “Everything Must pass. Don’t you see? All that you have done dissolves Once you come with me.”
“Oh, you are so wrong,” I countered. “Every worthy action Has a positive effect-- If only just a fraction--
“And those effects live on and on. And, no, they do not die. There’s more to accomplish here, So, therefore, pass me by.”
And so Death turned to walk away And gave me a reprieve. I guess he wasn’t so dead set On forcing me to leave.
Maybe he’ll find someone ready To go, with spirits beaming. Or else he’ll try to drag away Someone kicking and screaming.
-by Bob B (8-8-22) © 2022 Bob B |
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Added on August 9, 2022 Last Updated on August 9, 2022 |