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The Sham


If we consider life a gift,
Then why not death as well,
Or else to Him a shorter shrift
Our actions' stories tell.
Lubriciously to plan for you,
Destroy that work the next,
Capricious, futile things ensue,
Design in sane context?

Suppose we name this life, prayer,
And death we call, amen,
Then faith becomes an active player,
Whose fruit matures 'til, when
With unexplained largesse, He pours
Into a raptured soul,
The sight of heaven's opened doors,
Creation's final goal.

A shameless sham that death we fear,
Each man in his own way,
When what He has by faith made clear,
Immortal holiday!
No more hang back in sullen rage
But plan to end your work,
The best is yet to come, assuage
The thirst for heaven's kirk!


--H. Arlequin

 

 

 

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