THE END OF SENTIENCE
THE END OF SENTIENCE
The day I die, that’s it. I’m Dead.
Remember whilst you’re sighing
That the act of life, of birth and being,
Includes the act of dying.
No mausoleum, no funeral pyre,
Just lay me in the earth.
Let my body restore a part of what
It has plundered since its birth.
No platitudes, no priests, no myths
Of life in the everlasting.
Remember me for what I was.
Perhaps, gently regret my passing.
Perhaps, think of me as in the breeze,
But always bear in mind
It's just a ploy to ease the thoughts
Of those we leave behind.
We all must die; and yet live on,
Though neither in heaven nor hell:
But through genes, passed on, and on again
Down time’s eternal swell.
And also through deeds. The consequence
Of what we do on Earth
Can affect the lives of thousands
Who have yet to discover birth.
Judge not a life by piety,
But by things for which it stood.
Not from pious fear of godly wrath,
But from belief in the might of good.
It's possible we'll meet again
But only if, some day,
Man learns to bend the rules of time
And travels back this way
For once I’ve died, that’s it. I’m dead!
My sentience ends that day.
It will not have an after-life:
I won't know if you pray.
Petter Finne - copyright, 20.06.2009.
*This poem, and the comments below, may be freely reproduced, provided the above author is given credit.
We should all do our bit to reduce the number of people dying - practise contraception!
THOUGHTS ON CONDUCTING A FUNERAL
The word funeral starts with “FUN” - - please keep it that way
It’s the last event that my body may ever physically attend...
... Make sure there’s a damned good party!
Were I going to a carefree, unfettered party I wouldn’t wear a fine, expensive suit...
... don’t waste money on the coffin!
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