John Brendon Autida Poet Free verse

The Last Page Was Missing

Life is like a book,
Each page is a memory.
Just take a look
At what happens every day.

Until you reach the last,
Are you done reading history?
And now you know the cast,
You realize the book is not finished completely.

The last page was missing,
Wherever you search, you’ll never find it.
Reading from the beginning, but there is no ending?
No one knows; only God decides it.

The last page is human life,
It is the missing piece.
You will not know while you’re still alive,
Not until you die—rest in peace.

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Christuraj Alex September 19, 2026 at 12:13 AM Dear John Brendon, Your poem offers a moving and contemplative reflection on the unpredictability of human mortality, using the book as an extended metaphor for life. "Missing last page" captures the idea that no one can truly read or know the ending of their own story. Connecting the "missing page" directly to the moment of death creates a powerful conclusion. This is a beautiful and powerful work.

Pascal Borg September 8, 2026 at 1:02 PM A profound poem, John, about the mystery of life comparing it to a book with a missing ending. How true of life that is.

Timothy Ray September 4, 2026 at 2:36 PM Aptly executed, John, your quill did not answer the mystery but left ir where it belonged, in the Hands of the Knowing....loved it John Brendon Autida September 4, 2026 at 6:50 PM Thanks for appreciating my poem Timothy. May God bless you everyday.