In death . . .
that sodomising climax that comes 
to us all.
The young, the happy; the rich
only the sick await its call.



Even sadder,
for those who fear it robs them of a life.
Rather than, opening the eternal door,
for the spirits new life:






. . . with life ending for him,
physically ...



He watched the hands of time move 
- from the prone position,
where he drifted on feather pillows.
Between the life he knew 
& the one to come,
this sense inside of him - lifted then deflated, 
like leaves in the wind on an evergreen - 
yet, deciduous willow.
A timed phenomena, to a non believer 
- waiting for the hands to strike the hour 
when, to a new home 
this spiritual essence would flow.



...  he had reached the realisation,
it was merely a beginning.

22 March, 1998
Robyn Anne Pace