He had an inkling,
but could not put a finger
or even just a thumbnail onto it.
And how, it did occur,
would all this take its place,
in history, the one he called his own.
How much he had,
of course it was unknown,
a choice of unknown Gods
but not unwelcome,
so, fleetingly and with a thump
dark thoughts would visit
holding jolly hostage
there were so many ends
that would be loose
for quite some time, dear God
why is this now, not when I'm ready
and why pick me, I am essential?
I shudder when reality exposes
itself like one of Geisha's little sisters,
there is an education, within my head,
my muscles have been trained to near extinction.
Those bridges, caps and bleaching cream,
for dazzling smiles and noble spectacles,
my wardrobe, just completed, all up-market
the kilowatted Benz with four-wheel-drive
and don't forget the family at home,
they would not have a clue nor will I give them one.
And how, goddammit, will it happen if it does,
will there be Cheyne-Stokes or will I fail to wake?
Just, God, consider, if you will, that it will stop
it is impossible to even think of this in earnest,
what would you do if someone, like a bigger God
did have YOU in his sights for dissolution,
oh, no I am aware that all of us must leave
what I don't like is being picked at petty random
as you can see, I'm just advising you of errors
that can be made within the heavens, I can see
that this is one and no one will be all that angry,
least I myself who only seeks correction.
We shall speak later from the wooden bench in church.
I will then thank you for your kind consideration
as I believe with all my heart that must keep beating
that I need years to start untangling my affairs
and I adore you for your courtesy of listening.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.