a prayer for the time of my dying…

a prayer for the time of my dying…

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for into the arms of god go I
divine guided path
with a fulfilled heart
and calm mind,
for into the bosom of god am I
for my ego shall fade
to rest
as I have arrived home
for all time.

notes… am I not dying anytime soon (I hope) but if I do I hope for more, I am not religious, I do not prescribe to any particular belief, and I do not have any angst against those that do, I have to believe something else is out there, our life on this world is truly a miracle, it could all be random and what not, I accept that, but I hope for more, I yearn for more, and if I am wrong ? I will never know anyway, so I plant my flag in the camp of hope on that end, and may I see those I love once again… somewhere, someway, maybe in a dream that is a parallel reality…

examination of life… [\—]

examination of life… [\—]

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for of a pauper
or from a prince
from a line of kings
or of a reign of khans;
that comes
that which speaks all languages
and none.

a last supper, perhaps
the thought had crossed my mind, after
father,
for all your faults
all the times I thought I knew better, still
my father;
meatloaf and corn
paper plate
fruit cup
struggling with the plastic fork,
as I must watch
the constant beep of various machines
trying to understand the strange menagerie
of this common foreign land,
meatloaf and corn
I ignore the bits upon your shirt
the dots of gravy
the unshaved look,
focus on just being here
visiting hours, for this is surely not home
there are different rules here
absolute rules here
for no matter who’s father
least not mine
in a bed
stranded, helpless, reduced
tubes, bruised skin arms
asking about the rutgers score
the masquerade of familiar
what of the outside can be brought in
drapes are the thinnest walls
the clock, sits, only the third hand seems to move
time is giving me more now
as forced conversations run out
then there is time
just the time to be
together, silently
for now,

father.