death watch

It sounds terrible to say, but that’s what we’re on. We’re waiting…just waiting until the final thread snaps and she’s gone. In the meantime, we’re tired, and worn, and frustrated, and apprehensive about what will come…and still here. I know song lyrics are boring and awful and all, but I have no creativity left to think of profundities. So until then, these are what has been running through my head.

Some day the silver cord will break,
And I no more as now shall sing;
But, O the joy when I shall wake
Within the presence of the King!
And I shall see Him face to face,
And tell the story, saved by grace

I’m kind of homesick for a city
To which I’ve never been before;
No sad good-byes will there be spoken
For time won’t matter anymore.
Beulah Land, I’m longing for you,
And someday, on thee I’ll stand;

And finally, a poem by John Donne. (Italics mine.)

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

~ by wildeyedwonder on March 16, 2006.