Heaven/Hell Competes

Author’s note: There is a sweetness to melancholy. It draws me within as the petals on a flower will close as the sun sets on the horizon.  Indeed we may giggle during the day, but it’s at night that we go to sleep.

What balm is there in laughter?
A moment’s respite? An unsure tweet?
As the conscience awaits
Its tattle tale—rebellious turn,
And marches us toward hell?

Whether here on earth or later,
Eternity starts today,
In mirth we grope in search of light.
We lubricate our minds.
A shot, I hear, of Johnny Red
Will bring to us good times.
While others seek a darkened sky,
And lamp to probe the depths
To learn the how and why of life.
A melancholy man is circumspect—
And asks what lurks
Behind the sigh?
What is it I don’t see?
In space and time that’s unobserved.
But meaningful to me?

Behind the giggle gangrene grows,
A flower not, its root will rot
The hearts and minds of men.
While into hades some descend,
They’d laugh and search for their best friends,
They’d joke back then, they’d meet.
And party on; their minds convinced
They’d ride the cosmic surf.
Not knowing of dimensions more
Than three,
No longer on their turf.

No turning back, no place to run.
You’d think the risk too great.
For those who said they cared and wept.
They could not set aside;
They did not own their consciences,
Played back before God’s ears.
If only we could wipe the smirk,
And live one sober day.
And think about, ‘What happens if…’
Our conscious was replayed;
Before a judge who judges all.
What would I have to say?
I fear I’d fail that heavenly test,
If not a Savior saved,
Erasing all on play back.
That led Him to the grave.

What balm is there in laughter?
A moment’s respite? An unsure tweet?
As the conscience awaits
Its tattle tale—rebellious turn,
And heaven/hell competes.