Old Mortality

She is always waiting there
to catch you as you fall,
the mother of existence,
the safe insurance at the end,
the final liberator
garanteeing total freedom,
old mortality, the certain harvester of all,
who by his mere existence
offers you the opportunity of life
to hover at your wildest,
no height and no distance being too severe,
no possibility being restricted;
that old death awaiting at the end
ensures you every liberty of life
within the only limit
that you must return to him
where he awaits you with a silent promise
or a half one there's his only doubtfulness,
that he might launch you on another start.

Poetry by Christian Lanciai The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2010-02-13 at 11:52

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:) and am sure about the another start..for there is o real end..for nothing.
esp wen its written with sucha talented pen..shall b immortal...i relay do love this nice poem.
gd luck

Nils Teodor The PoetBay support member heart!
When the game is over
the king and the pawn
go back into the same box
but who knows if there
is going to be another play

I like your poem
it is very well written