Holy men tell us life is a mystery.
They embrace that concept happily.
But some mysteries bite and bark
and come to get you in the dark.
A rain of shadows, a storm, a squall!
Daylight retreats; night swallows all.
If good is bright, if evil is gloom,
high evil walls the world entombs.
Now comes the end, the drear, Darkfall.
Darkness devours every shining day.
Darkness demands and always has its way.
Darkness listens, watches, waits.
Darkness claims the day and celebrates.
Sometimes in silence darkness comes.
Sometimes with a gleeful banging of drums.
We can embrace love; its not too late.
Why do we sleep, instead with hate?
Belief requires no suspension
to see that Hell is our invention.
We make Hell real; we stoke its fires.
And in its flames our hope expires.
Heaven, too, is merely our creation.
We can grant ourselves our own salvation.
All that's required is imagination.
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Comments about this poem (Darkfall by Dean Koontz )
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