When I Expire

They that have seen thy look in death

 No more may fear to die

  -Felicia Dorothea Hemans

I am now twenty-seven years old--

An age infamous for dealing out untimely death

But since I lie neither in obstruction or in cold

There is at least one artist in America who still draws breath

However, that will not always be the case

All in good time I myself will expire

Whereupon I will atrophy a spot in the ultimate case--

Dressed from head-to-toe in prodigious attire

And as family, loved ones and lovers alike

All take seat--saddened and heavyhearted--in the pews

Some there to be trite--Some there to be vain

And others--with little composure--devastated by the news

I will be there myself--Not to grieve, but to sleep

And who knows--Perhaps the dead may dream

If so, I hope it’s a pleasant dream

And should I ever wake--

I hope to wake in a time when all grievance has ceased

Reviews

[Orlando Furioso]

What a fascinating thought. I think more about death now. Sometimes I am so tired, being a little beyond 27 now, I wonder if I will actually wake up alive, and so can't sleep. But what wld a dream in death be? I suppose a dream of life, in which case we are actually living the dreams of the dead. Eeeek. E.A.Poe might like to write that one. Surely, art being art, there must be nothing to stop a dead artist creating, too.