LESSON

And then there is death. Always.
Some of you have contemplated
It, in the active or the abstract.
On some the fear of it preys
Like a worm, unstated.
The flutter of the final act.

Unnecessary really, its terror
Made more of than it deserves:
The dark needs but light
To expose the error
Which ignorance serves –
Dawn to the louring dread of night.

One could be pragmatic about it:
See perhaps in its inner
Vacuity the blown up myth,
And with cold reason rout it.
As routine a chore as dinner:
Something to be got over with.

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