The end is near.
Many ends to choose from:
a bomb, the zombies, the calendar.
With endings, there must be beginnings.
So there’s hope, but still an end.
It looms on the horizon,
stalks in the shadows.
Will we know, be aware
of its approach?
Do we even want to know?
Would I rather sleep through its coming, or toast it
Could I stand to watch as all I love
is laid to waste?
Indeed, I must.
Whether it arrives at once
or takes its precious time.
To live is to observe all the small endings
on the way to our own.
So we pray for fortitude to fight
and joy for the moments in between.