Death

Death—a painful atrophy in life’s ethereal poise;

A fatal caveat served without mercy, without choice;

A de facto mystery with no respect for rank or age;

A supernatural pen that inscribes the final page.

A melancholy foe who wins each battle fought;

Who alters what once might have been into what now is not.

A sharp and final finish that no soul can comprehend;

A point of no return, indelible—the end.

And if it actually were the end, life’s aim would be obtuse.

And every thought-up sacred creed unveiled as a ruse.

Incalculable hours spent in study, prayer, and thought

Would suddenly lose value, debunked as a plot.

Fanatics who for many years held true midst shameful mocking

Would crumble with their shattered hopes—betrayed, their worlds rocking.

But glimpses here and visions there call millions to believe,

There’s more to life than living here, and death will let us see.

For some it marks the end of life; for some it is the start—

For those who made Messiah the Ruler of their heart.

To pass from life to life, for these there is no greater gain—

To enter life with Jesus and leave a life of pain.

When those who ran this holy race cross worlds and start to sing,

They’ll join the cloud of witnesses shouting “Death, where is thy sting?!”

Death is not our enemy; though painful, it’s our friend.

With permission not to vanquish us but liberate us to transcend.

Let us weep when death has carried some friend or kin away

For Jesus wept in sorrow as well at Lazarus’ grave one day.

But remember death is not the end; it's the entrance to forever.

It may separate our bodies, but our hearts it cannot severe.

For if we remain in Christ, someday death’s knock will sound once more,

But this time we will be the soul he’ll bear from shore to shore.

And when his work on earth is done, he’ll unite us once again

With our family, friends, and King Who’s brought us safely near to Him.

Take comfort weary soldier; take heart young, nimble soul!

Be not weary in well-doing; keep your eyes upon the goal.

Though syrens of this world would try to tell you life is here,

Remember death is coming, but remember without fear.

Live each day as all saints should with Heaven on your mind,

For fear of death will flee when you live ready all the time.

Walk the narrow way before you paved with Blood from God’s Own Son—

The Blood that’s borne others who have lived, and died, and won.

I cannot help but smile a bit, when death takes home a friend,

A wistful, peaceful smile for I know death is not the end….