(no subject)
May. 6th, 2005 02:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kodalaiI'm not much of a poet, I never have been, but this was running through my head for a while.
Death comes to all men, variously,
No man may know that of which he may live.
Men may seek life, vigorously,
But that is a power that is not ours to give.
It comes to men on the battlefield cold,
It comes to women in childbirth bed,
It comes to teenagers on the road,
It comes to where infants lay their head.
It comes to the young, it comes to the old
It comes to the fierce, it comes to the meek.
No virtue nor guilt, nor innocent soul,
Will prolong a man's life past the limits he seeks.
No words of comfort can soothe those who live
But to weep. And mourn. And repent. And forgive.
[edit] The rain finally came.
Death comes to all men, variously,
No man may know that of which he may live.
Men may seek life, vigorously,
But that is a power that is not ours to give.
It comes to men on the battlefield cold,
It comes to women in childbirth bed,
It comes to teenagers on the road,
It comes to where infants lay their head.
It comes to the young, it comes to the old
It comes to the fierce, it comes to the meek.
No virtue nor guilt, nor innocent soul,
Will prolong a man's life past the limits he seeks.
No words of comfort can soothe those who live
But to weep. And mourn. And repent. And forgive.
[edit] The rain finally came.
