The Good don’t die young.

The Good don’t die young. They don’t die at all,
They go to the sea, but the sea does not come to them.
The good live in all their actions, their children and the
Ever lasting blue sky.
Look up at the blue sky you will see the Good.

The Nice they die young, they are crushed by the
Eternal stench of the Earth and are denied the Blue heavens.
They are only remembered by a passing strangers smile
and a quizzical “thank you”.

The Meek don’t inherit anything. The Earth is dead.
They are given the bash and the lash and the chains.
They are left to suffer eternal leftovers.

A child once asked me what she was to be.
I said I think it all washes to the emerald sea.
She seemed to be searching for a saviour.
I said be nice for the nice are often  released on good behaviour.