A Poem no less. A rare thing but then, while at a Chaplaincy conference ironically entitled “Interruptions on the Journey” so are fire alarms, especially a 6.30am (mercifully!)
Life Alarm?
Was it like this for him?
Repose, cold dark-dead
shattered by the words of
friend’s belated arrival?
Ensconced within stone
serene and yet not immune.
The Master’s words,
did they cause, alike in him
that brief be-numbing
Disorientation that says only
Leave?
Did the rock resound,
shout aloud,
the words of he who wrought it?
Or did the merest whisper
still suffice to wake him?
“Lazarus, come forth.”
Life, Faith and Role-Playing Games 
As one rare-poet to another: that’s nice. Thank you.
Thank you for the poem, Moose, I hadn’t thought about it from Lazarus’ point of view – great to look at things from different point of view. 🙂