When death liberates me unto its acre
Will I miss the familiar haunts of rejection?
When I’m forced to gaze into the eyes of my maker
Will I miss the sincerity of my reflection?
When my place in the world has withdrawn its intention
Will I long for the tartness of love’s pungent lime?
When I find out that death is a wondrous invention
Will I drop all my cares for eternity’s climb?
When the reaper reveals to me intricate wonders
Will I miss the warm breeze and the dullness of day?
When my eyes go to shut out humanity’s blunders
Will I miss the glad fools that enlightened my stay?
When I glimpse of the laughter that waits beyond doom
Will I still hear the pain in my mother’s good-bye?
When letters are chiseling into my tomb
Will I know life again in a new infant’s cry?
When a sip from the Lethe dulls my lifelong affections
Will I forget the snow on the tip of my tongue?
When I no longer hunger for earthly confections
Will I still need the one that I fought to become?
Transcending the threshold requires contortion
So desperately wed to the flaws in my form
I bask in the comfort of natural distortion
Can I nourish without the emotional storm?
The talent to bleed, perceive and perspire
Can only be bred in a heart-heavy chest
Will I don a new robe or still wean from desire
When it comes time to lay my old playthings to rest?
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