The Unbeliever
Everything was wrong.
Gloomy shades of sadness,
knowing she lay
dead on a cold slab.
He'll never love again.
His anger could not abate.
She had made her peace,
with her unknown god.
Now he understood the why
of her soft, secretive sighs.
He felt the sunless chill.
No one could console him.
He must bear his loss alone,
knowing she was now nothing
but vapour, since nothing could
exist after life's loss.
For if god existed
wouldn't he give him a sign?
In the crippled light
feeling like a fallen butterfly,
he suddenly felt a breeze,
caressing his face.
Something rustled in the grass,
and from afar. a church bell rang.
Fiction
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