Long Sleep Poem by G. Newton V. Chance

On this bed of dread,
Breathing deep breaths,
Waiting on the long sleep,
Sound sleep,
The last sleep,
Journey of unknown dreams,
Grim boatmen gliding
Down one way streams,
Deep rivers of no return,
Where the dark moon goes,
The dark moon glows,
No billows blow nor sweep,
A dread, drab land,
Where no willow grows
And ever widows weep.

Memory speaks of many things,
The real and the imagined,
Milton's and Alighieri's
Transcendent images
Of heaven and of hell,
Purgatory,
Angels and archangels,
The guardians and the fallen,
Of good deeds and of evil,
Done and left undone,
Of love and hate and loved ones left behind,
And a rebellious, recalcitrant Devil.

And time with dual, dial hands,
Swift as humming bird wings,
Short hands,
Short as nanoseconds,
Long hands,
Long and wide like frigate wings,
Strong hands,
Strong like cherubim wings,
Strong enough to bear, this weary
Sojourner home.

What is this smell
That lingers and so malingers in the air,
Something dead lives here.
Be it Lazarus
Or Barabbas,
Of temporary reprieve,
Or duality of two thieves,
Whose paths cross
With the Christ upon the cross,
The resurrected and the lost,
And all the lessons taught,
And all the lessons learnt.

God may be forgiving...
but life... is not.