[25] Pain or Pleasure

Crushing the life from a squatting beetle
I both marvel and despair at the substance underfoot
And imagine my own demise as I cower
Beneath the black descending shadow of the scythe
And contemplate the rights and wrongs
The reasons why

Must man waste his final thoughts
On a futile journey of frantic self discovery
Whilst the eternal host awaits his pleasure

Such Pleasure

Will it be gloom or shining bright
The voice of darkness or radiant light

Shall I burn in the eternal fire
Or sing with angels in a heavenly choir

Or must I return to further strife
Born again to a second life

This life that’s cursed with perverse reason
Where pain is holy and pleasure treason

Crushing the life from a squatting beetle
I wake the dead