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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
After the loss of my Mother-in-law I looked inside myself and tried to put what I saw into words.

Submitted: December 04, 2013

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Submitted: December 04, 2013



It’s raining and dark. I’m cold and afraid. Hope seems like such a distant dream that only some people have. The rain is heaviest right now, here at the end. “The end” the end of what, to say it is the end implies something is about to start.

 Promises, some may call them dreams. What are the dreams? Are dreams things you wish for just to take you away from your place in life? Are dreams something to give you a since of hope where none seems to abide. Promises seem to be different then dreams but when a promise is made you expect that promise to be carried out, depending of course on who made the promise.

 As I look past the promises or dreams or promises of a dream, I see a window. I can’t tell if the window is painted black or if the inside is dark making it appear as if the window is black?

 I can see lust, greed, backstabbing, coveting. I see all these dark things. I see a movie playing, a high light real of every bad thing done, a reminder of a past and a present hanging over my head as if it was a guillotine ready to drop down on my life and destroy everything.

 I see pain, a loved one snatched away but the loved one was taken a bit at a time. Was it drawn out to make those in love with this sweet person suffer more? How can death cause such pain and happiness? Pain from missing the person lost but happiness because they are not suffering anymore. They are not forgetting anything anymore. They know the names of their children, and grandchildren.

 Off in the distance I can see light. It’s small, but it is a light. The darkness runs from it. The past fades away as if scared of it. Darkness can’t survive in this light. Shadows don’t have a place to hide in this light. I see this light and it is getting brighter. The chains binding the soul to the past are breaking. The light is coming closer, the light is bright as the brightest sun. I see the shape of a man. The light is coming from him. He has nail prints in his hands. No dark thing can live when he is around.

 As the light gets brighter I awaken. Was it a dream? It’s raining and dark and I’m cold and afraid.

The end

© Copyright 2019 Max Lucas. All rights reserved.

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