End of Days
End of Days
By Edmund Siejka
Pondering the value of life
He formulates a riddle
What is better than God?
Poor people have it
Rich people don’t have it
And if you eat it you will die?
The answer to his riddle is: Nothing.
Looking up
He notices a pale, glowing light
Clouds reverberating with music
Feeling movement
Chest about to explode
He is lifted above the turbulence
Faster and faster he travels
Across a gray pallid sky.
Reciting a prayer
The old words reassure him
He who never prayed before
Peering through a tiny clearing in the clouds
He is struck by the enormity of what lies below
Of what he is leaving behind
He feels himself giving way
His body changing
In shape and size
Feeling a calmness to the very end
Uncertain of what is to come
He now realizes
That his crowded little life
Is coming to an end
And the only thing he can think of
Are the stories his mother
Told him
Stories of how people always triumphed over evil
And the endings were always good.
Turning off the light
She would lean over him
Gently kissing him
On his forehead
As he lay still
Not moving
Not afraid
Sleeping the long sleep
Of an innocent babe.
Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2014
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