Living this stage show
Scripted as Heaven or Hell
So Shakespearean
At times its a comedy
At others a tragedy
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Living this stage show
Scripted as Heaven or Hell
So Shakespearean
At times its a comedy
At others a tragedy
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
I do not pretend, to know the truth,
Anymore than you…or the sun…or the moon,
Proving nothing short of ignorance otherwise.
~
What I do know, is that death is inevitable;
Whether life be a second, a minute or decades,
Of this I am certain.
~
Just as I am certain of my origin;
Beyond progeny…beyond paternity,
My essence existed before that of this earthly vessel,
And will certainly continue beyond it’s worldly demise,
Our human science has assured.
~
I am, however steeped in uncertainty,
Uncertain of what lay in wait after this finite adventure.
~
Will I be swallowed by consuming blackness,
Drifting endlessly…disjointedly into nothingness?
~
Will I be welcomed at Heaven’s pearled gates,
Greeted with open arms into a paradise?
~
Maybe Hell hath set it’s sights on my mortal soul,
Repaying me for the sinful life I’ve led?
~
Or will my soul join with others
To live once again,
In the vessel of another of the newly-born?
~
These all, are questions of faith,
Your faith…my faith,
Questions for which I have no answers.
~
After a lifetime of curious inquiry,
I hold no greater insight into the afterlife,
Than were so endowed in me at my birth.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
As the dam breaks wide
I’m caught up in the deluge
Left gasping for air
Sights and sounds swallow me whole
The joys of life and learning
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Hands used to hard work
By night, lay calloused and broke
Like a fallen oak
Brought to it’s knees by axemen
Split and forgotten
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
I’ve looked within me
Trying to understand life
Yet still it eludes
Wisdom has not come with age
I know less each passing day
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Consumed by treasure
Riches are not wealth alone
Like the love of gold
Love of family enriches
Living on after we’re gone
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
Coffee thick and strong,
Cooked over an panhandlers stove.
~
A barrel fire for warmth,
Trash confiscated as fuel.
~
Emitting the foulest of odors,
Room for but a few.
~
Night frigid under tenement shadows,
Shanties erected haphazard.
~
Rags moth eaten and ragged,
Held up by anything scavenged.
~
Shelters vulnerable to the storm,
Little choice in the matter.
~
Homes taken,
Jobs shipped overseas.
~
Children hungry and cold,
Let down by an unsympathetic people.
~
A movie scene?
No, these are real lives.
~
Real people,
This is life on the street.
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
What we forge in life
Only lives on when we share
Like gifts at Christmas
The joy is in the giving
Expecting naught in return
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~