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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #2121373
A difficult, challenging poem about the process of dying, and the stories surrounding it.

No heaven above, no hell below

No final judgement when I go.

No devils’ shrieks, no angel songs.

No balancing of rights and wrongs.

In times long past a god explained

How all that happened was ordained.

The lore and stories bound together,

in cardboard, paper, cloth or leather.

The tales and myths of long ago.

They never change, ‘tho people grow.

We’re different now from times of yore.

No need to live by ancient lore.

Now meet the challenge of today,

so cast off fear, no need to pray

And when I die, as sure I must,

fulfil the promised “dust to dust”.

Or from the fire, the ashes spread.

A meet memorial to the dead.

Goodbye my loves, goodbye my friends,

for this is how the story ends

I close my eyes one final time.

Thus ends the rhythm, thus the rhyme.

The dark door opens ...

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2121373-Death