I reckon on a reckoning one day.
At that time bound to be wrecked; on the rack.
Suppose expected, but too much to pray.
And at the very last, it will distract.
But no joy to suffer the pain when weak.
A life experience to be savoured,
I do not think so. It’s hardly a peak.
It will be too hard and not be favoured.
Larkin’s line, “first boredom, then fear” being
life “Whether you use it or not, it goes”,
Into this sonnet of pained, stretched seeing.
Because, I , here, inconceivably knows.
End of life sonnet. Not feel like larking.
Who knows what, or nothing, I embarking.