Choosing...
Choosing...
Death sat between Heaven and Hell,
flinched visibly,
waiting to choose,
as he looked up at dancing Angels,
and down at fire-breathing dragons.
Exotic breeds of animals everywhere above,
tortured souls and mutilated bodies below,
sour expressions,
he brought his hands together
and bowed,
submitting himself,
committing himself,
reliving the past,
he then chooses.
Death capered back and forth,
choosing carefully,
choosing wisely,
choosing nevertheless,
all in an eternal mess,
choosing Hell,
but who could really tell?
Copyright © Frank F. Atanacio | Year Posted 2008
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