Survival - A Sonnet Poem by Richard St. Clair

Perhaps I may survive to age one hundred,
Perhaps I may expire tomorrow noon;
Perhaps I'll die on some night of full moon,
Perhaps I'll just die pain-free in my bed.
This I know for certain, here I am,
Living in this moment, yessiree,
Thumbing nose at dying, don't you see?
Prognostication truly is a scam!
I have no faith in a judging wrathful god;
I do not fear the flagrant flames of hell;
And if my life no one will live to tell,
I sign my joy in this life with a nod!
"Komm Süsser Tod" the Elder Bach did sing,
Begone grim Yama, tight to life I'll cling!