No One Feels Death
I wrote this religious poem about a month ago.
No One Feels Death
No one feels death, but Jesus,
who reckons my every stroke,
the forty minus one
of which the rabbis spoke.
No one seeks death, but Jesus,
who counters every blow
and bears our every sorrow
because he loves us so.
But how in the Hell do we know? (This query is not part of the poem.)