Rage all you like against the dying light.
It’s a sad joke to think in some way
You’ll somehow stay the night.
The old man’s running down the street tonight.
Why waste time to use it climbing hills
To slow him down no matter what.
As time wrinkles, it smooths out hard faces.
Anger merely serves to mask the old
Man’s numbers only adding up
To a sum total nowhere approaching
Some infinite theory he might hope
To equal.
Living forever
Is a long, long time. Approach the axis
And collide, the curve stops short.
A bumpy ride for those who pray.
Prayer’s integral to an end realized,
A terminal belief built in when
Baptized and confirmed we go
The way of all flesh, dust to dust, we know
This, instilled, and as the why comes near
A quiet answer’s what we’ll hear,
What we always knew, no matter rising
Rage, the breath expires, our aching knees,
Our hands unclasp as fingers
Numb and gnarled, unsteeple, unsteady as
We rise to go.
The spirit as much
As it’s ready to pass on, will
Go on – the gospel truth?
We are gathered
Here today, those left to be dispersed,
all exit the expected way.
Never an amen said was ever screamed
At heaven, but most in a whispered
End, eyes closed, perhaps to open.
