I am Death. As I lay my hands upon life it withers.
I am Completion. All I start is finished.
I am Finality. The end is in everything that my cruel fingers touch.
I am Armageddon. The final reckoning for all that is love.
I am Execution. In all young things I see their demise.
I am Destruction. I can turn love to hate.
Feel the end in this, in my cold dry kiss.
StanMRogers. Copyright 2009
The stage is empty now
The theatre is deathly still
Almost loud in its utter silence
The last applause long died away
Maybe the distant echo of lines spoken
Are heard by ghosts
And the loose board creaks
The old actor enters
Surveys the vast space before him
Rheumy eyes take in the vacant seats
His adoring crowd no more
Without the cheers
The adoration, the gasps of a rapt audience
He is more alone than he can stand
His leading lady, long gone
The cast? … away to some blowsy watering hole
Leaving him this empty stage
To tread alone
To read his well rehearsed part
… to no one
But the ghosts of his past might hear
Might take the other part
The lover rejected
The past scorned may join him
So through cold dry lips
He performs his part
… but only the ghosts hear him.
Stan M Rogers copyright May 2017.