The writing is by me, and the poem is by John Donne.
|I had a dream once that involved "Death Be Not Proud" by John Donne. I was walking through the woods one afternoon, and somehow a scorpion got on the back of my neck and stung me at the base of my skull. (When I woke up, I had a painful lump on the back of my neck.) I was instantly paralyzed. I fell to the ground, and there i saw that scorpion crawl off my neck and into a small hawthorne bush. Almost instantaniously, a boy with blonde hair and no face walked out and came to my side. He looked at me--or at least, the place where his face should've been was aimed in my direction--for a few moments. Then I heard an epically deep but evil voice reciting the poem: |
"Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better than thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die."
After he was done, he pointed his pale, skinny finger at me. Slowly, a scorpion's barb emerged, and he went into a crouch position. He dragged the finger to my face, oh so torturingly slowly...Steadily, he laid the tip of the barb on my forehead, then swifty jabbed the barb into the flesh between my eyes. An icy cold fire spread over my nose and when it reached my eyes, I went blind. Strangely, the paralysis just prevented me from moving. It did not stop the pain. I could feel the cold venom from his finger trickling into my bloodstream. Eventually, it covered the entire top half of my body. Before the poison spread into my brain, I heard the little blonde boy walk off into the same bush the scorpion had gone into. There was a slight rustling of leaves, then I felt tiny legs scuttling over my swollen face. Then, I died.