It was not Death, for I stood up

It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos crawl
Nor Fire for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool

And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine

As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some –

When everything that ticked has stopped
And Space stares all around
Or Grisly frosts first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground

But, most, like Chaos – Stopless cool
Without a Chance, or Spar
Or even a Report of Land
To justify Despair.

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 3.50 out of 5)

It was not Death, for I stood up