And this was in response to my poem, "Death's Retort to John Donne."


Death, For Thou Hast Died

Pitiful death, confusion doth taunt thee;
can'st thou not comprehend the spirit realm?

Should thou banter with thine own fear;
for knowest thou not, this soothing balm.

Tho' thy sickness gnarls and pains, flesh may wither and weep;
and thy wings of dark doth frail body embrace.

Apart mine soul from rotting birth, thy poison cannot grasp;
for'ere doth breathe this breath of life, death's nectar ne'er to taste.

Death I do but pity thee, for power o're me hast not;
'tis love, pure love that beckons me, and touch me thou cannot.

Copyright 2004-2008 CZF

úre scoplej sy seó