Final Light

Night disintegrates 
in the middle,
as the final white light
noiseless epistle. 

some through the trap door:
one prophesy fulfilled. 

Approaching the light,
limited time, 
shadows evaporating:
Truth’s combine. 

Back of the line
moving quickly forward.
Eyes widen:
final bipartisan border. 
So many hands raised. 
Some bargaining in pleas, 
some opening to receive. 

Regrets’ final drowning
in bucket lists,
all possessions vaporized 
into ash and lint. 

This is it. 

Approaching The Light, 
limited time. 
If He speaks, 
what will you

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

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