Crepuscule

Daylesford © Jennifer Phillips

Times past, I've looked at the idea of death.

 Is the cumulation of a life just dust to dust, 
only a dark and sordid stain remaining,
or does the soul in apotheosis rise to afterlife?

Death might whisper and creep slowly in the night,

 perhaps toy with you like little waves against the shore,
or snatch you unwittingly, in an instant.

It is appointed to men once to die, 

but after this be the Judgement.

Which souls may descend with mortal fear, 

facing enduring punishment to their level,
one of the nine loathsome circles of Hades,

and which dance lightly as a feather,  

to idyllic Heavenly realms?

Will my life stand analysis,

when I am naked and trembling?

The answer is simple:

Humata, Hukhta, Huvarshta.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

Clare Valley © Jennifer Phillips