Surely Poem by Andy Brookes

Secure in my insecurities, of that I'm sure that I am unsure.
faulty in admitting my faults, which if believed are many and varied
my faulty memory and body which seems to have stopped obeying my commands
it has revolted, years of ill use have made it creaky and me cranky.
so I sit at the top of the Cresta Run, and it was a long haul to get here
but the view though beautiful is too brief as I descend with speed down its icy slope towards death,

Not that I am sad, au contraire, maybe as the believer say it is the last journey,
going where, well, either paradise or oblivion.
surely there is something more than sitting on clouds dressed in angels wings;
more an adventure than the black hole of oblivion.

the other thing I am sure is that I am absolutely sure of nothing.
so I take a strong position by sitting firmly on the fence so when old man death,
or old lady death, for that matter, come to think about it it maybe neither he or she,
however I will go where it beckons, on or not and though I make it sound like a choice, I know its not.
Now that I am sure of.