A New Friend

The Prudentialist

The Prudentialist

Observing the world from a dissident and realist perspective. Musings on culture, politics, and international relations.

I’ve recently made acquaintance, with a friend you usually don’t meet
Wandering around most days writing in his massive tomes
You don’t meet him until you’re older, but he’s out there on the street
Waiting for you to live your life until one day he meets you in your home

On occasion you will see him, in the corner of your eye
On a busy street when you’re not looking, or staring out in space
Or with that slight distraction on the road, just missing passerby’s
Of course he’ll be there when you’ve had your mortality abased

Thrice I’ve met him within a year, all of which was rather odd
As he was simply as a presence, at least with the first encounter
Taken aback with quiet observation as I was certainly no old sod
And began a simple conversation as if a local to an out-of-towner

“What brings you by?” He asked, as he simply answers every call,
A question which then surprised me, I thought that he knew all.
”Do I start with diagnosis or just how I got to here?”
I simply told him my name and asked how did he appear.

“A simple question with a very simple answer,” So Death began reply,
I wanted to interrupt him but of what might happen I wouldn’t risk,
”I simply enter upon this stage when one might just happen to die.”
An answer that caught me off guard, to the point and yet so brisk.

Out time that outing was yet so brief, but the illusion clearly shattered,
That at any time with the slightest move, the fragility is shown,
And so for me that youthful veil had been thoroughly discarded and tattered,
Yet added with the slightest comfort that there’s someone, you are not alone.

I hadn’t seen him for a while, maybe until autumn later in the year,
Something out of my control, had brought me back again to the brink,
Yet when I saw him once again this time I held no fear,
With a subtle nod and look at both our eyes we know the natural link.

And so for two weeks he watched, and when I was alone we would converse,
On how he had attained this role, and if it was one for life,
”All puns aside I’ll let you know, that this job while long is also rather terse.”
A smile came across my face knowing he would lose in that final strife.

But thankfully, as word to pen, would show that I’m just fine,
Yet a visit came one last time, not too long ago, when the fateful call came,
The risk was made clear by his appearance, fateful little sign,
As we waited for the time to come, you learn mortal moments call his name.

He stuck around for quite some time this time around, obvious if you know,
With the ink on a new lease on life not yet dry, he’s bound to stay while,
But as the months of passed me by, he doesn’t tend to show or say hello,
So maybe now it is not yet my time, I’ll live on with a subtle smile.

But to my new friend, whom I’ve met thrice, or at least that I can remember,
Speaks with such a subtlety about when his job is deemed complete,
Almost as if he knows his fate, a predestined loss to such heavenly members,
So despite my life, shortened but renewed, I can carry on with a small conceit.

An attempt at getting back to basics with a basic rhyme scheme, but it feels good to try and make something work pen to paper, keyboard to screen.

Until next time.

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