Serving, he worked there—for all of his life
Through the thick turmoil and hazardous strife
He endured, somewhat prospered, living life
Death as part of life—how was he surprised?
I surmise that he knew it was coming
Expecting, yet doubting what he realized
From the beginning, dizzy world spinning
Yet he lied and believed it all was still
Now flung from the earth, bent at random will
Could nevermore attend to his service
For he was prostrated, faded and ill
Bound to fate not his own, choosing malice
He was fit to die—the end of the lie.
That we temporarily tell ourselves
We all live controlled, strong, awake, alive
Then 'fore we know it, we subside, reside
And the precious tasks beholden to us are relegated
And the sacred responsibilities—not annihilated
Passed on.
