Should death not be a quiet, peaceful scene?
Why rage, vicariously, against the night?
Why take offence against what is serene?
Why rage through some invasive, vile machine?
What is your fierce, pugilistic right?
Should death not be a quiet, peaceful scene?
Why make your fellows struggle, why so keen
To force them to the bitter end to fight?
Why take offence against what is serene?
Why must you brutishly invade between
A man and his last hours, his call to light?
Should death not be a quiet peaceful scene?
You cannot know your actions don’t demean
Your fellow man’s esteem in his own sight.
Why take offence against what is serene?
Should one not meet one’s death in one’s routine,
‘Mongst things one’s soul can reach to depth, breadth, height?
Should death not be a quiet peaceful scene?
Why take offence against what is serene?
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