Promises

Just we are born to die,

So too are our promises born to be broken.

Yes, we are meant to be mortal and lie,

For even death shall do us apart.

Till the roots of our relationship grows old,

Shall I tend the tree that stems us together,

As I trespass in words often too bold.

Yes, even death shall do us apart.

I may pray for another hour,

But the sandy dunes will erode my soul,

My brittle bones shall crumble as I cower,

All as death shall do us apart.

And in that final game of chess shall I rage,

Shall I touch God’s unforgiving gaze,

I will crumble in faith I will crumble in age, 

Just as death shall do us apart.

What are we but memories waiting to be lost?

What are we but tears in a flowing river?

What are we but a rage of nihilism, tossed

Aside; a broken promise from chapped lips?

And just as all is meant to part,

I too shall take my stride.

Forgive me when I come to pass.

Just please wait and be my guide.

Until death shall do us apart.