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Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) Danish philosopher, theologian, religious author, poet and social critic and religious. More

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Great the season,
but thats isn't all,
for Halloween is coming.
Be afraid, you all.

No grave to day,
to dance upon,
so you may choose
to move along.

Come back tomorrow,
if you must dance,
for I am certain,
you'll have another chance.

I talk of pain.
I like it not.
It feels it will break,
but am afraid it's naught.

My body,
has turned away,
from my special journey.
I'm on my way.

Last night, I thought,
I was gone.
Perhaps, it's now?
Who can tell,

as my soul is gone
a highway, I know well,
a ancient road,
to Perdition, Hell.

Now!
When the pain,
within this shell,
becomes too much,
it's time to tell.

Saying words,
not good for me,
but good,
for their own necessity.

I am dying.
I feel it now.
I must fulfill,
my promised vow.

So, what are the odds?
We scurry through life,
in a race, just a blur, while wondering
about a direction, which we knew was absurd.

Are we alert to our happenings,
which in abandon
where they lay,
or would you rather move on,
and stay out of the way?

I've walked the,
dark and nasty trail,
in this so crazy life,
I cannot reveal,

what a mess to me,
to be where I'm not free.
Not to be a whining one,
for I see what I see.

When everyday objects,
begin to fall off the wall,
will that be enough,
will that be all,

or is it a prelude of,
what happens soon,
as we cover our fate,
with a perpetual gloom?

There may never be,
a chance like this,
where we seal it with a handshake
and a small,
sweet kiss.