Riding Through Life on a Pale Horse

When prayer is no longer
your bargaining chip for life
your soul thrust to the devil
in the end all fight to survive
beyond the wake of the dead-
the revenge of the stolen souls.
One miscalculated, lazy step
the death dealer seals his grip,
sinks his teeth into your neck.
And with your fate now sealed
your death has a christ-like effect
as some thing re-ignites your limbs,
and necessary bodily processes resume;
your sight, auditory, even your bite…
still, you are but reanimated flesh.

Your sudden, exuberant death
revealing a life less than lived-
that life which you chose to waste
with each breath taken for granted,
each action drawn in fervent haste.
Were you placed here to merely exist?
Or was your purpose to serve-
serve yourself? Perhaps someone else?
And if so, was this what was in mind,
when the words, divine, declared
eternal life to those in the waiting line?
From what I have read, I would bet not,
then again, I was warned throughout life
that fairy tales lie, they never come true.


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