Thursday, 19 January 2017
A question Unanswered Benedict Brooke
Twas ‘twixt the jester and the joke
The wise man spoke but no one knew
The history of his sanity was virtually untrue
He sat with vacant eyes. The shadow of his own surprise.
Whilst wisdom newly crowned. Downed another drink and said
“The beauty of being dead is only seen
By those who have once been
Somewhere on the other side-“
Yet isn’t it unfair to hide
The knowledge of one’s own passing?
And in the same breath he denied
Or was he the first man who lied?
That God had ever spoken to him
On some fine and wistful day
Of the majesty of sin.
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