Memento mori filled with finite grains
Reminds us that the sands of time fall fast
'Til not a single spec of time remains
And ev'ry future soon becomes the past
The present symbols of our pending death
Present our eyes with what our eyes will see
And by the life we feel within our breath
We also feel the coming autopsy
Memento mori's volta is the sin
Of all creation, knowing Thou Art God
And knowing thus, I seek to enter in
To places where the words I write are flawed
The Word is God in Heaven or in Hell
The last grain falls; the tolling of the Bell.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 29th, 2024 at 5:41 pm and is filed under Sonnets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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