"The Final Mile"

"The Final Mile"


The two angels...only trying to hide
Taking in the air like some deer at brookside
And like some blackbirds they begin to fly
The two angels... trying to catch my eye

I direct them onward, leading them East
I run with a purpose, like a captive man released
My instincts are blameless like a wildwood beast
My horizon is broadened... My senses increased

Crossing a mile with my mind ringing clear
My burden is thankless; Two angels to steer
Where shall I take them? Should I stop here?
With feet growing heavy, my final destination is near

A meadow of grass four feet high
The situation is thickened as I begin to cry
I know not how, I know not why...
The angels pursued, for the time had come to die

And as I rose slowly into the sky...
I uttered a final unearthly sigh
I saw the end approaching while unable to escape...
The final mile's distant and shapeless shape

-B.L. Houghtalin