The Fall

A poem on death's timing, and man's hopelessness to decide on it.

Colors extracted, wrapped in shroud
Flaky but feathery, fluttering down

All to’ard the ground in white they descend,
Falling the fall that ends to begin,

Knew He, his time’d obey His Will
With Satisfaction all fulfilled

And when the clouds dispersed on high
In qui’t content, bade he, “Good bye”

And so descended he that day
New life, he leapt a leap of faith

Joined all those who had heard the call,
And with the courage, tak’n the fall

Again around the brilliant fire,
Before a new fall, ‘gainst human desire
                       
                    **

For to fall by one’s own mind does risk
The mind which chose that black abyss

And thus no snowflake, thick or fine
Decides its fall by its own mind