It was just a door,
A door I had walked through a thousand times before.
But, this night,
On the other-side.
A screaming hell had arrived,
And in the cold black silence, I heard them cry.
Demons being murdered, out of sight,
All the gods that created life had already died.
Sliced with fire and bloodied knife,
By their own creations, they had given them life.
Broken thin veils,
In a house with air long stale.
I watched as the heavens tainted itself with blood,
To give us a chance here on Earth.
But, only whisper kept me alive,
“Don’t go outside, don’t go outside.”
Voice trembling with fright,
I heard the end, next to candle light.
So, who will guide?
What will shine?
Now, that all of the gods who created life have died.
(Written: 2026-10-21; Edited: 2026-10-28)
This dark Halloween inspired poem hopefully inspires and stirs some deep metaphorical questions to negotiate. Maybe religion helps us to see that we are the angels and demons of our own lives. Maybe science and religion cannot exist without each other? Could the mere act of existing be incredibly heavy burden for oneself and the others around to carry? If we could meet the first being, be it god; a god; or ‘just’ the first life form, could we or would we help it if needed? Are we capable of reciprocating the chances we have been given to those less fortunate, or do we turn our backs and stand as judge, jury and executioner? What lengths can and will life go to, and what happens if we land on the wrong side of this impossibly complex existence we are living and experiencing?
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