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Thy Will Be Done
Cold to the touch
And past all hearing
Blue-mottled skin
Taught held and cold
The throb of fear
Intensely gripped
Constricted throat
Gulp
Retch
Took hold
A life switched off
The dark descended
The past screwed up into a ball
Coated with fear
The future threatening
How to sum up
This final call
Che sera
Will be
What was
Was me
The now
The then
The future
When
Melt into one
Not lost
Nor gone
All rest upon
Thy will be done
Fond memories remain
To feed our forever future
Roland's Ragbag 
Your poem eases the contemplation of death. The last two lines make our memories seem timeless. Amazing poem, Roland.
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I appreciate your positive response. Thank you, Eugenia.
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You’re most welcome, Roland.
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I agree with Eugenia, your poem is amazing. You catch with such depth and stark truth
the fear most of us feel when facing The final call. Yet you show how the then, the now, the when, the future all melt into fond memories that forever remain. Thank you Roland.
Miriam
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You interpret my feelings so well and with great sensitivity, Miriam, for which I thank you.
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Most poignant
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I am grateful for your response, Derrick.
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