Sonnet

I was day dreaming, worrying absently.
Calamitous events, violence, accident, shame.
And then I realised, I am seventy, old age knocking and not so faintly.
A final calamitous event is fast approaching, all the same.

Am I going to wake up in a Renaissance painting masterpiece.
The Tuscan lit Virgin there before me.
Am I going to rise up all in one piece.
Or just an everlasting instant of glorious light is what I shall see.

And this body I pamper.
Washing caring, clothing.
Will lie rotting in that cold churchyard in soil’s dark deep layer.
How I dislike and shudder at that cold earth unsparing.

Or is this reported near death light just physical.
Hey, ho, no matter, it is by all accounts beautiful.

Haiku

At death what awaits
Glorious light everlasting
Or just then nothing