Your time is nearing,
Fate’s manhandling your star
Like soldier, airman, sailor, marine,
Like war, like the Iraqi people,
Like pennies to the starving,
Like winter to the homeless,
Like the bitter last taste of murdered execution.
Your time is nearing,
When fate’s knife enters you
It gauges not its pain, measures not its collusion,
Nor weighs a conscience,
It simply plunges beneath the skin, shrieking.
The pain, the collusion, the conscience
Be yours to suffer…
Copyright © 2006 mrp
NEARING TIME
