An Eighteen-Senryu Adieu

Once all’s said and done,

time will have made its last run

for Earth, Moon, and Sun.

The rooster’s last call,

the sundial shade’s last fall,

the bell tolled for all.

Without a warning,

the sun won’t greet the morning

with its adorning.

No more day or night.

Foresight as clear as hindsight—

both gone with the light.

Heaven’s gentle rain

no longer relieves foul bane

on mercy’s campaign.

No roads will diverge;

ages hence will have no verge;

no sighs will emerge.

No more you and me.

There’ll be nothing as lovely

as a lass or tree.

Godot sans chauffeur.

Bartleby will not defer.

No king, horse, or spur.

The grandfather clock,

once time’s no longer ad hoc,

refuses to tock.

Memories are naught.

All is gone that once was taught,

fallen to onslaught.

Gone, too, malls and schools.

There’s no need, indeed, for tools.

No more rules or fools.

Zombies and vampires?

Gone. No brain or blood desires.

No Reaper or pyres.

Fear and pleasure vain.

No song singing love’s refrain

nor of life or pain.

There’s nothing to store

since those our forebearers bore

will exist no more.

No thinking. We’re not.

No philosophical rot

about that damned spot.

Naught else is storm-tossed.

Science and religion lost;

no thoughts to accost.

Time will not forestall,

for all creatures, great or small,

the Reaper’s masked ball.

Today may be all.

Don’t go dry to that good pall

after the last call!

By Ken Gosse

From: United States

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/ken.gosse/