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End
June 23, 2009
End
In the twilight of the beginning of the
End of the world,
I stand in the dying light.
Rippled pages of my story told through
Past tears shed rip like soft leaves wet
With morning dew.
It makes no sense to come or to go,
Not anymore.
The air smells alive,
And I can almost hear the
Chorus of heaven singing me home.
I stand in the dying light,
Alone,
In the twilight of the beginning of
The end of the world.
© Steve S., Marblehead, MA
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