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Death of Faith

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HomePoetryDeath of Faith

at last the Lord

he said to me

“you’re on

your own,

I set you free

for Father lays

in morbid

state

His body cold,

His coffin

draped

with the

wings

of seraphim

 

so there’s

no need

to look for Him”

 

and heaven locked

the golden gate

to paradise

where mothers wait,

my mansion

just a fancy crate

where flesh

and bone

disintegrate

 

and, damn…

there’s

little more

to say but

“life is short —

enjoy

the day”

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