The House of Death (a poem))reedited))

The House of Death
[Seventy-two Deaths]


This World that was sweat for many men
Has a perfect ending for those arduous years—
A realization that will crown their heads
The image already implanted therein—
Where layman or king cannot escape:
Eternal embodiment into the house of death
(Seventy-two deaths, death offers man)
Stern delight of one marvelous moment,
Where time stops and ages pile on top:
Meet behind a stone pyre aflame, and wait.

Solid stone silences, tongueless mouths
No sunset, no music, just fires abound—
The apprehensive voice of life is now gone.
Where will I go, cries a soul’s scalded echo:
To God’s house in heaven? Or Paradise
Some place in Hades, by a river of the same?
Or to the lake of fire, beyond Hell’s gates?
Or to the house of worms, or frozen cells?
Or to the Prison House for Angels
(In some far off galaxy—in the cosmos?)
Its agony—is redder than mankind’s blood,
For the faithless, now quicker to cry:
At this point, destruction hangs, intensifies.

Their dust on earth, has no breath, nor destiny—
Non-exempt from foreverness, immortality;
Thus, they wait, inimical, or favorable—
For those ancient words that will burn
In one magnificent magic moment, burn!
Silence in the breast of the world—its
Suddenness producing chaos in the mind,
Slowly, the pendulum swings its weight
Dazzled wings of angels at the gates—
Unleashed smoldering horizons wait—
(Oblivion lingers, under the heavens)
As both the good and evil halt…eyeballs
Looking for their overlords their God’s…!



#1784 4-7-2007

Note: Sometimes we simply get what we ask for on earth, thereafter, eternally. Thus, it can be regrettable.