Death’s Obituary

Death follows hard after breathing beings.
He ain’t stopping ’til he freeze your feelings.
Or seize your nerves and leave you reeling.
This is no joke, you’ve been told before.
It’s too late, when he’s knocking at your door.
But the Devil’s surprise,
Can’t believe his eyes,
The hinges whine,
He discovers his prize.
Before him stands,
An Innocent Lamb.
Nailed him down,
Crucified I Am.
Buried him deep then locked the door.
Threw away the keys,
But please.
There’s more.
What God had in store,
Sent death through the floor.
High King of Calvary,
The prisoners set free,
Thou slain, now raised, claiming victory.
And now we read,
Death’s obituary.

I stopped by a cemetery on my way to the YMCA this morning and recorded a quick voice memo on my iPhone. It’s a quick single take as I walked a path between headstones, which felt appropriate. You can hear both the wind and the lingering effects of my head cold. And I’d rather have someone record this who has more capacity for this sort of thing. So, if your expectations are sufficiently lowered, feel free to listen.