The axe had sliced into the wooden block
And through the captive's neck. The severed head,
With eyes still gaping from the horrid shock,
Rolled to the filthy ground and bounced and bled
And left a trail of bright distressing red
Like letters writ in cursive script to say
That death put pause to daily life as led;
What else did you have planned to do today?

The spattered blood had almost stained the frock
Of that pale priest who’d come to bless the dead,
But he stepped back austerely, and his talk
Was scarcely halted. To the crowd, he said
The needed words of hope when life has fled
And sweeter fate awaiting those who pray,
The people calmly listened as he read.
What else did they have planned to do today?

The head had come to rest against a rock
Besmeared in stinking mud; with eyes of dread
The captive stared, and in the aftershock
His fading mind still held to silent thread.
Before him the whole sunny world was spread
With laughing crows and children all at play,
But his whole life to this one point had led.
What else could he have planned to do today?

And to this point you also have been sped,
The falling blade does trim the time away.
Potential paths unseen around you spread,
What else did you have planned to do today?