“Would you not get bored? ” They ask. <br />“How could I? ” Was the reply, <br />“When there are yet words to be written, read, rhymed, <br />Peaks to be painted, paced, climbed! ” <br />“But they shall run out! ” <br />“Only with the universe. <br />If at night you see Gates, you spend your days searching <br />Searching for the key. <br />Only finding distractions and mystery.” <br />“But the rewards for that key are infinite! ” <br />“And if I neglect this dazzling light <br />My reward is an indifferent smite <br />And barring from this impossible realm? <br />Can’t you see your obsession neglects your own helm? ” <br />“This helm I’ll sacrifice for Heaven! ” They chant. <br />Knowing that his next words would find footing as a rant <br />The poet realises he cannot decant <br />The blindfold of the ages, <br />The whisperings of many mages, <br />From his churning neurons, <br />His factual environs. <br />Their chorus behind him devours his footsteps <br />And he wonders what shall face all upon our deaths.<br /><br />Jason Doyle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-on-immortality/
