I read from the "Pensées" beside the creek
When an unholy thought in me occurred;
My careless soul tossed, and the snake concurred.
The death's-head moth brushed by my sallow cheek.
It was a grueling summer made me meek
And question that of which I'd been assured.
Blind faith is safe by Blaise Pascal inferred,
Yet I see heaven's lanterns growing weak.
He'll hold the camphor oil up to my nose,
But I will lay me down in dewy grass
As the anointed leave for higher spheres.
I'll doze as the lily of the valley grows,
And seasons note me sleeping as they pass.
When flesh has come to dust, I will be here.
