At the Moment of Death

 

My soul divided.

Perfection

Distilled and ascended,

A pure and magnificent mist.

Avarice, Envy, Selfishness, and Apathy

Congealed, sloughed and sank.

Me, I was mostly Apathy.

I looked back

Over my dark shoulder as

My perfect self

Shimmered toward the light.

Impulsively, I called out

In a moment of pseudo compassion,

That was actually

Just another form of selfishness,

“Don’t trust the Oblivion of Heaven!”

“Stay where you are!”

My kind, gentle self did not hear,

Glided away,

And disappeared from my sight.

 

I skulked into Hell,

An abandoned street

Of ugly houses

In the stinking desert.

Yards nothing but hard dry soil,

Shot with dusty faded rocks.

Withered broken weeds

Poked from fissures in walkways,

Reminders of

The randomness of death,

Not able to remember that

They once carried life.

Each empty dreadful house

Shrouded in a coat of inches-thick,

Cracked, bleached pastel paint,

Layer-upon-layer.

“I deserve this,”

I commented to my bitter self

As I approached the home

Of my next eternity.

I didn’t care enough

To even wonder

Whether

I was also enjoying

Heaven.

 

Written by Kay Kole Leary

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