It is a good day to die

i lie half-dead with Sol’s gentle ray filling the gaps
beneath the sheaths, it slowly slits my soul’s straps
like a clean slate with no trace of hate
to god i succumb, i entrust my fate

whether it be eternal damnation
in hell with no chance of pardon
a highway to the road of perdition,
or the less traveled path of human reason

inside the golden gates that admits only love divine
no possessions, nothing is yours nothing is mine
unaffected by the hands of time
it is a good day to die, so it seems

much better a funeral!
with a clear day and a gentle breeze
i know it doesn’t get any better than this
but wait, what is this smell?

fried rice sautéed to perfection,
it’s scent tempting and taunting me to it’s direction
it is not a good day to die, so it seems
not when mom is cooking breakfast on a Sunday morning

-joma

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