—
If there’s no God, I die, my atoms disappear
Like bubbles blown and frantic to escape their ring.
Wind takes them by the hand – “Let’s run away from here!
Let’s go somewhere and find another song to sing!”
And when I’m gone, perhaps my poems will linger on;
My children with their children and then theirs – a chain;
Or some good deed will swim within my wake – a swan,
Until the sun grows old, expands, and naught remains.
If there’s no God, I live my life upon the sand.
I leave my print; I have a heavy present weight.
And I reflect upon my life and think it’s grand.
But when I die, it’s like I never left the gate.
If there’s no God, then soon or late there is no me.
The sand along my beach is smoothed, impression free.
———————————————————————
photo by marmit at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nVig2o2/Follow+my+steps+2
————————————————————————————————————
© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.
The Bard on the Hill 