Not Yet

The_Albatross-painting myke amend

take me death
take me with you on a journey
the last journey
not yet
not yet
your time will come….
But I’m tired of the wait
tired of an uncertain life, desiring the inevitable
I called on death again
take me
it is foreordained that I will taste death
lead me to your banquet now, I am weary of lingering at the edges
then coldly he stood, staring before me
great and gaunt and terrible
bringing none of the bleakness I had expected
his anger whipped the air and
we rose in a flurry of flat sharp winds
and he showed me
there and there
ants that scurry to and fro knowing nothing
you now have knowledge
you have met death
and now must find the courage to face life
now go and learn
unless you prefer THIS….
and the winds no longer carried us
I shrieked into the plummeting darkness
not yet
not yet
I changed my mind, I choose life
and death smiled
and was still

*artwork by Myke Amend*


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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