End of Days

End of Days By Edmund Siejka Pondering the value of life He formulates a riddle What is better than God? Poor people have it Rich people don’t have it And if you eat it you will die? The answer to his riddle is: Nothing. Looking up He notices a pale, glowing light Clouds reverberating with music Feeling movement Chest about to explode He is lifted above the turbulence Faster and faster he travels Across a gray pallid sky. Reciting a prayer The old words reassure him He who never prayed before Peering through a tiny clearing in the clouds He is struck by the enormity of what lies below Of what he is leaving behind He feels himself giving way His body changing In shape and size Feeling a calmness to the very end Uncertain of what is to come He now realizes That his crowded little life Is coming to an end And the only thing he can think of Are the stories his mother Told him Stories of how people always triumphed over evil And the endings were always good. Turning off the light She would lean over him Gently kissing him On his forehead As he lay still Not moving Not afraid Sleeping the long sleep Of an innocent babe.