At Home with Creation

At Home with Creation              February 18, 2006 (Revised October 6, 2013)

See thy pen with which I scribe?
I script memoirs du jour 
For the our offsprings' plight,
For I shall not live an Eternity and on
Contrary to The Savior,
Thy Lord, Jesus Christ.
Ergo, I have a legacy to bequeath,
And memories to disseminate,
To sew my cerebral seeds,
My memories anti mortem,
And I, but a sinner,
I shall be tested
By the grapes of His wrath.

As an old man lies dying
Upon his final bed,
I know not who suffers most
Between he and myself:
For to spectate his passage
Into a life so foreign,
I cannot bear losing him
As he cared for me gentle.
I wish to alleviate his burdens
And his pain for all time,
Yet only God can do so,
Unchain the shackles of Despair!
Oh bless you, Almighty God!
Oh bless you this and each day,
For the dying man is dehumanized
If he is not to be with you today.

Then the last sand descended;
The old man was released,
Expunged were his pains
And Eternity's date arranged.
I felt a void carving
Into my abysmal heart,
And my countenance, wracked,
With a torturous cry.
I take solace in knowing
My God has him,
That the old man has arrived
To converse with St. Peter.
Yet he now lies in state
So peacefully and still,
Feeling not a twinge of pain,
Nor the cruelties of the Living.

He now has arrived in Creation itself:
From whence all were descended,
And with God's Grace and our loyalty,
All shall return Home.