I hear the sound of a muffled drum
You yourself sounded it
It’s clear tho’ not pleasant, definite
tho’ pushed out of my attention..
I know it to be Death’s; I know He will come
tomorrow if not today.
This strenuons work I am in, passes off
as days do, silently and unimpressively
Let Him oome- the invincible, the irresistable.
But please, Mother, do come before He does!
I don’t know Him, but I hate Him.
I’ve no breath to claim that I know you.
but I like you!
If love and hate are like big and small,
Oh Great Mother, do tell me,
Are You and He one and the same?