The Rite: A Poem

It is the death of another day.

As the sun sets far away.

I lay in bed in fear and awe.

Will the sun rise again?

It is the rite -

Of day and night,

Of dawn and dusk.

Of birth and death.

That feeling of not knowing,

The next turn to take.

Will there be a tomorrow.

What if nothing?

I cannot help but wait -

For sleep takes over.

A kind of death.

Inevitable. Necessary.

Will I wake up again?

Will darkness turn into light?

Will I prevail over nothing?

Does it matter?

I trust in the rite. I hope,

That dawn will follow dusk,

Day will replace night,

Life will survive death.

But it is only a hope,

The day after may never be

So now, we must be free.

And hold on to nothing.

Gordon C. Cardona – 17 October 2010