And When I Die

The river Styx is mighty, life or death on either side,
The current’s strong, the journey long, the destination bleak,
The punishment of evil lives the boarders must abide
They shall not find in any kind the respite they do seek
The Frenchman, Jew, the Englishman, the unassuming Greek,
Will meet the fate their deeds have earned, upon the distant shore,
Decisions made in haste and pain will haunt them evermore.

The belching maw of Hades waits for Charon’s wretched crew,
Damned for all eternity, through portals they must pass,
The fetid slime of evil reeks of Satan’s lonely brew
Their souls are charred before they reach the Devil’s fiery blast
Upon the sea of molten fire their sinful beings cast,
Beelzebub is grinning, but his joy is yet untold,
He shakes his head and welcomes them into his hellish fold.

“Charon, what are these you bring, are evildoers they?”
“Their crimes are naught, they hold no sway with any minion mine,
Your booty does decrease, old man, it worsens by the day,
For sinners in my realm must bear their evil with a shine.”
The Poleman held his council then, for he was wont to dine
Upon the Devil’s anger for a group of Souls so weak,
The Lord of Hell could not refuse to take the wicked meek.

The Death of man is storied well in history and Myth,
The Sage’s words, decried by some, have told the fearful tale
Of afterlife beyond the grave, far past the monolith
The tomb shall be the poignant start, a wind become a gale
To blow the seeds of conscience through the ever-swirling swale
Man’s life is short, his sentence long, he scarce has time for love,
He ends his stay in burning Hell, or hopefully, Above.

Michelangelo Buonarroti, 1537-1541, fresco on altar wall of Sistine Chapel, the Vatican, Rome