The Gentle Painful Nudge Shall Come Poem by Sixtus Osim

When the gentle painful nudge shall come,
It shall loom from grimy rumbling sky;
How ignoble in reason when it comes?
How certain it will strike like a spy
At an infinite time to run man down
And make him quirky quintessence of dust,
And all his jewels and gold shall be lost!
While he stands in gloomy silence with god
And each of his acts, whether right or wrong
Shall be numberedly weighed, one by one.
When the gentle painful nudge that looms comes,
All we heap as stuff of gold shall be lost!
For as life is more priceless than gold,
So this bargain has been unchaste from old.