The Consequences of Life and Death
The mist rolled over the feet
Of two strangers standing close,
One held out their hands,
Offering the prize.
I looked upon this stranger,
Cloaked in blackened mystery.
And in his hands he held my fate,
The choice to change my being.
The figure gently broke my concentration,
Reminding me of a simple fact,
That each choice held a consequence,
Jagged and sharp as glass.
His presence unsettled my soul,
His patience made my mind hasten.
I studied both my choices,
And picked the one most appealing.
I reached for the hand that held my life,
Felt its warmth against my skin,
Delighted in its light upon my face,
And bade farewell to the stranger.
When I came from that place,
I found a meadow lying underneath,
Its grass scratched the back,
Its closeness pierced the soul.
I looked around the place,
And found it to be home.
Yet in the distant horizon,
Not a living thing stood out.
The match of curiosity was struck,
I set forth for the house,
Longing to speak unto my loved ones,
Yearning to feel their warm embrace.
The door to the stone-patched house lay open,
A cool breeze twisting in.
I entered into the darkness,
Anticipating a light from within.
Yet what I found frightened me,
Sent the head spinning,
For in this house stood not my memories or love,
Only their death.
It was then my consequence surfaced,
The payment for the inability to sacrifice.
My heart broke into pieces,
My life drained from my veins.
I ran from the morbid house,
Into the yard that was waiting.
There I came face to face with my friends,
Laying under the ground, marked by a stone.
I fell to my knees,
Cursing the humor of that stranger,
Wishing that I had chosen death,
For it would not have been so hard.
The stranger came up behind me,
And placed his bony hand upon my shoulder,
Holding death in front of my watered eyes,
Offering the pain in my heart to come to and end.
I grabbed my death with glee,
Anxious to make the pain cease.
I walked down the lighted path of eternity,
Turning my face one last time to life.
To my utter surprise
My loved ones spilled forth from the house,
Weeping upon my grave,
Laying flowers upon its mantle.
This was my consequence for choosing death,
How naïve I must have been,
To think that this night-cloaked figure,
Would bring, to my pain, an end.