Apostasy

I honestly don't remember what I was thinking when I wrote this poem. I was probably an undergrad at the time, if not in high school. I don't think "Apostasy" was the original title, but I don't remember what I was thinking when I changed the title, either. I doubt that the poem is literally about apostasy. In fact, I suspect that all it was really about was a tune running through my head one day when I was in a really morbid mood.

No cause to be afraid, old man,
No cause to be afraid;
The sun as yet is casting
Its final golden braid, old man,
Its final golden braid.

Your straps are quite secure, old man,
Your straps are quite secure.
The pain, though it be lasting,
Shall not be great or pure, old man,
Shall not be great or pure.

Each hurt shall be so small, old man,
Each hurt shall be so small
That you might never know it
Until you feel them all, old man,
Until you fell them all.

The whole shall make you die, old man,
The whole shall make you die,
But death will only slow it
And change the reason why, old man,
And change the reason why.