Waiting for the shoe to drop,
The ax to fall,
Walking on egg shells,
In tentative anticipation.
Can I see the door yet?
Hear deaths call?
Loved ones may die today,
Tomorrow or next?
Misfortune written,
In humanity’s script,
With permanent indelible ink.
Many faiths believing,
The day, minute,
And final hour preset,
In immovable stone.
What a heavy cross to bear!
So how is it,
We sometimes see people who,
Involuntarily laugh at a funeral,
Smile through tears,
Continue loving,
When they know…
All will be lost,
In a moment’s time.
Perhaps eternal soul knows,
Something more?
-Gilda Patricia
gildaspoems 
How true ! The only truth without an iota of dispute, an inevitable journey to mortality! Time to reinvent the self shedding the ignorances of life! Nicely written Gilda!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You summed it up so eloquently Kamakhya! Thanks.☺️
LikeLiked by 1 person
A nice poem Gilda and some poignant reflections on our mortality. There is a Native American saying that “there is no death, only a changing of worlds.” Perhaps their eternal souls knew more?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love that saying! Thanks for sharing Davy, and for your kind words😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
A pleasure Gilda. Enjoy the rest of the week.
LikeLike
You too, thanks!🌤
LikeLike
the reflective tone and the lovely cascade are just brilliant.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow, thank you!!☺️ I’m blushing!
LikeLike