The Renouncing Of The Grave Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Spoke and paced the Monsignor
As he paced he spoke
As he spoke he paced

There was Thought too to him
To his Mind-Brain
Fortress for resolving balanced things

For to renounce to the grave
And
Not to renounce to the grave be
Balanced so.


Bring me
Bring me some Occam's Razor to decide
I shall give judgement
But you appeal, if so you will.


The parcel in the cold trembles, trembles
Blue
Violet-blue in its lips.

And I shall give you appeal after appeal
Appeal from appeal:
There shall be no limit, ' I decreed.

There was an Apostle running
Running from the grave
And he said:
Immortality!
There be Immortality!
At first a flame
But now in execution glows!
But as with all joys Problem brings:
To decide whether to renounce the grave or not

Said the Monsignor:
‘In the grave too it be preferable
You will lose none, have none,
Be none but dust and bones
Feeblest yet from Problems freest.'

Then rose the Poet-Seer-Philosopher
And said:
My Monsignor, pray, more deliberate.
For Immortality too in the longer term
Will too be prone-propense to melt problems'
That, too, why be and continue Immortality