The priest stood by the bed, Good Book in hand,
to offer comfort at the end of days;
with hopes to add another to the band,
inviting him, "Renounce the Devil's ways!"
But Voltaire was no fool, he clearly knew
conversions on the deathbed are a farce;
and Pascal's wager, better to eschew—
believe such lies, get bitten on the derriere.
A mind quite unsurpassed was Arouet's,
though he would never claim it Heaven sent.
Enlightenment through clever epithets;
viaticated, to his grave, he went.
"Let me depart in peace, I beg you please...
now is no time to make new enemies."
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Author Notes
viaticated (adj.) fully prepared for a journey.
My sense of rhyme and meter appears to have deserted me in stanza two - sorry for that little slip :)
This little story poem tells the tale of the death of Francois-Marie Arouet (Voltaire) pretty much as it is recorded. This leading light of the enlightenment is someone who most assuredly was prepared to make his final journey.
Pascal's wager is the theory that even if one doesn't believe in God, one should convince oneself to do so, as supposedly there is unlimited upside to making such a decision, and no downside. That, of course, is extremely debatable.
It seems to have become somewhat of a game among some "believers" to invent totally fictitious accounts of notable non-believers who have had miraculous "deathbed conversions". Exactly what is meant to be achieved by such deception is not clear to this writer.
My much-treasured Christmas present for 2017 is a book by Paul Anthony Jones: "The cabinet of linguistic curiosities". Each page contains a descriptive story about some obscure or archaic word. It occurred to me it would be a fun exercise to try and write, each day, a poem featuring the "word of the day" from the book.
Thanks for reading.
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