Why shall true relief hurt us?
Can we run behind the curtains
Hide a little?
Lie a little?
Lay a little?
Stay silent beneath the sad shadows,
Rot a little?
Cry a little?
Be a little?
Till divine desire makes us move.

Why must death make us juvenile?
Why shall the end make us weep?
Why would one ponder upon death while he grows?
Why should I be afraid of dying?
Should I not fear living?
What does one wonder while defecating?

We all fall
One day,
One night,
When our lights shall die upon us
And the red curtain comes crashing from above spitting hand noises.
But if our play is not over
We shall look upwards
And close our eyes.
Kneel and bow with furious acceptance,
Praying for heavenly redemption.