You tell me death is final night
The end of choosing wrong from right.
I ask what then if God, the One
In whose hands all the sands of time do run,
When no last rites are said, no holding hand
Stands by to wrest the sinner's prayer from dying voice -
What if He breathes upon those last few grains of sand
Provides the space, as needed, for the choice?
Must Purgat'ry at all costs be denied -
Semantics versus Lord of Earth and Sky?
For all those who now face their final night
Shall not the judge of all the world do right?
