Judgment Day

We are but grains of sand in life’s hourglass
Plures inter plures waiting our turns
That slowly penetrates the narrowness
Of time ending all our worldly concerns.
The moment comes like a thief in the night:
Silently, stealthily, assuredly.
And in this sleep of death things are put right:
Our past dreams become bits of history:
Involuntary intervals of life
That had reflected our immortal souls
And there are never any two alike
Spirits on trial that will defend their roles.
In the end, though, we go our separate ways.
Some ascend while others will face the blaze.

poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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