Certain Call of Curtain Fall

PAD Challenge day 30 from Robert: Here we are again: the end of another challenge. Thank you so much for showing up and poeming along with me. It’s always a great deal of fun.

For today’s prompt, write a closing time poem. Or another way of coming at this prompt is to write a poem in which something is coming to an end–like this month’s poetry challenge. Could be the end of a concert, an era, or whatever else must come to a close.

Wow, what a lot of sudden reminders this community has suffered recently... 

of the Uncertainty of Tomorrow! 

Caleb Andrew Weeks

Lam Diing

Toronto Strong

and these on the heels of Humboldt Broncos tragedy!

Are you ready today if tomorrow never comes, to meet the Lord?

If not, the Gospel Plowboys explain what needs to happen while there is still time! 

(these guys remind me of singing with my sisters in a new empty silo
or playing the harmonica in an empty grain bin;)

"We are all one heartbeat away from eternity, is what it (this life) amounts to..."

The Gospel Plow-boys

This fevered flight of morn to night

No one can harness tight or hold

Tick-tock’s voracious appetite

Deftly turns everybody old

Unless the curtain falls and calls

Before that ‘Three-score-years and ten’

When those we touch and love so much

We cannot touch on earth again

Dusk’s swansong swells and spills to hill

And dell in farewell’s deeper hue

The heart is oft soft-torn between

Green-gold greeting and blue adieu

Where we dash through the door of dawn

Held light and lustrously ajar

Then turn to find the west pinioned

With twilight’s silver Evening Star

Aha, the law of wake and sleep

Keeps dancers on their tippy-toes

A serenade of jade and bronze

And bud burst into ruby rose

Before the subtle roar of seasons

Scores this fragile robe of skin

With tributes of Time’s testament

That death of day-to-day will win

The cry that fills the eye with tears

And hearts with bitter-sweetest ache

Is subject to far more than years

As love pioneers give-and-take

Where farewell is the flipside to

Life’s tide, rife with happy hellos

And where a door swings wide with New

The old must first come to a close

Thank God, earth’s blue-dot does not dangle

Hap hazardously in space

Where fear would surely strangle hope

Without assurance of His grace

For all who believe will receive

Life after Death’s Cold Servant calls

But, none behold That Great Untold

Until Time’s flimsy Curtain falls

© Janet Martin

 The days of our years are threescore years and ten;
and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow;
for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

Who knoweth the power of thine anger?
even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath.

So teach us to number our days,
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

Psalm 90:10-12