And at the end of that good life
when it came time for him to die
the old carpenter soared
into the white light of death –
for the white light is where the good souls go to.
And the white light warmed him and
nurtured him and
fed him great peace.
And when this carpenter arrived in heaven
he was expected and
immediately he was put to work:
for the Pearly Gates
were a bit loose
and St. Peter's desk
had a couple of drawers that stuck.
And before long
the old master carpenter
began to build
a new throne
I wrote this while my father was dying, and read it to him on his deathbed: January 1991.
© Gary Edward Nordell 1991, all rights reserved
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