I saw Charon whilst walking back from a smoke,
The shining halls were dying - brightly still,
The dark was holding night-lights in revoke,
Yet souls acknowledged, and pleasantries spoke their will.
He drifted by, in collar and crying robe,
Not here to nurse or call, I thought him strange;
A medium between this fleeting globe
And that beyond imagination’s range.
So I walked on, returning to the ward
Where my father slept, and on the way
I heard a newborn screaming new life’s chord.
At midnight, was it close or dawn of day?
There are greater things at work beyond these plains,
A constant force that moves when loss remains.
Sean Godley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/charon/
