Old, dark robes

The idle die idle.
They treat Death, like a distant acquaintance,
When Death is a guest permanent.
It is in the room you just left,
It hoards the few moments ago,
And those soon to come.
Death is a companion,
Who must be at your side.
You need not seek it,
But should keep It close in mind.
For Death owns all our former days,
Ways we were and ways to come.
So we must persist,
And see our great work, done.

Return to the Citadel, if you must,
Not to sit still, not to rust,
To meditate on impressions,
What we can control and cannot,
And then to act, Now, to do good while we can.
I will Live Immediately as Death watches,
Occasionally stroking my hair grey,
Under these uncertain skies.

© SXT 2023