Last Soliloquy

Like angel’s whispers to my ear The pain is soft inside my fear This pain so soft which gently grows Inside the fear whose seed it sows Go softly, gently through my being That I may blind my eyes to seeing The truth of my mortality Through pane of this reality Allow me this tranquillity To pen my last soliloquy ~*~ With strident trumpets from above A mighty hand in iron glove The mighty hand that makes its mark And firmly leads me from the dark So firmly, surely, my heart wake That I may own to my mistake And see the bough about to break No angel’s whispers for my sake No deft excuses now I’ll make And Death’s approaching hand I’ll take ~*~ As Heaven’s peal deafens, so does pain Ring true in me again…again Have faith in me, my trusty friend As I, on you, at last depend Ring soundly, nobly…take me home To Death’s cathedral, stately dome I welcome now the flighty charms Of He, in whose embracing arms, I willingly relinquish qualms And whisper all angelic psalms ~*~*~*~*~*~*