The End

January 11, 2009
By Monica Grabijas, Park Ridge, IL

The End
descends upon the quiet earth
as we walk along the edge of the world,
painted by the lights of two eternities.
In eerie dusk my hand finds yours
As our trembling bodies teeter between
what is to become and what has past,
our souls march beneath the burning sky.
Stars scorch brilliant paths through eternity;
beautiful to naïve eyes
only to fall in heated destruction
as haggard cries litter a dying world.
My weary feet pause as my eyes gaze into yours
only to be assuaged by your vehement embrace,
your soothing whisper in my ear
that swathes my qualms in desired serenity.
Our souls entwine as bloody feet stumble onward,
towards the finality of our austere fate.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book