Danse Macabre
Uploaded by
Joe GonnellaDanse Macabre
Uploaded by
Joe GonnellaDanse Macabre
after Holbein http://www.dodedans.com/Eholbein.htm
The Chairwoman in her boardroom On her leather chair, Chiding her directors, will greet, Whether or not she wants to, The lord of bones. The CEO on his jet, rushing To a meeting, rushes, as well, Into the cold grip of the harvester Of men who waits for those Who will not wait for others. The COO, berating his subordinates, Stops mid-word when His devil whispers come And deaths bony arms envelop him In endless calm. The CFO wakes from her dream Of balanced books and predictable returns To smile into the face of the skull Who haunts her through divisible days Down to a final sum of sun. No matter how massively parallel, Mirrored or redundant his distributed Systems are, the CIO, on duty as always, Will meet with the disaster From which there is no recovery. The EVP, in her corner office, Will be cornered by the collector Of souls when she least expects to be Even though no budgets are due And everyones forecasts are dead on. The VP, smiling at his superior, Will frown when the grim dismemberer Remembers him and every project He prosecuted will become Someone elses victory.
The Director may face the face Others fear but the fearless reaper Has less to lose no matter How brave the aspirant hell claim. Cowards or heroes all bones grind to ash. The Manager, working late, Will hesitate when she looks up From whatevers overdue To see the collector, who brooks No delay, ask her for her final pay. The mere Employee is not exempt From what all others owe. He shoulders This burden as he has his others And willingly obeys when the last Commander asks for what none can refuse. The Secretarys secret remains a mystery Even as the eater of souls devours What shes withheld from colleagues, Bosses, friends and lovers. This hunter Knows nothing and reveals less. The Janitor has no time to clean His last latrine or order his jumbled closet When the prince of disorder makes his claim On him. The most disciplined practitioner Surrenders just as the laziest must. The Un-employed are spared most everything But this. Free from all meetings, At their leisure to wander where they will, They come when recalled By he who will employ us all. The Homeless, with nothing They can call their own, with neither Roof nor reference to their name, Will find their home in him Whose embrace none can escape.
