“Life Still Goes On…

Up There…”

Life to Death, a journey by: Michael L Lewis

Copyright by; Michael L Lewis 2013

Life to Death, a journey

Late at night, when all is quiet you can hear the ticking of the ol’ Grandfather clock

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.

You lie in bed starring up at the ceiling in deep thought. The ticking of that goddamned

Grandfather clock! You’re unaware of what is going on around you, and in your own

home.

Death is afoot, and it is coming

for you!

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Time

I sit here alone at my writing desk smoking like a damn freight train. It’s no wonder that

cancer will take me before I’m fifty, but we all have to die of something; that ‘something’

is what terrifies us the most.

The clock is ticking, and your time is

running out.

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Death

Songs of joy! Grave of sorrow. Awaiting my death, another tomorrow.

I hate death, and everything about it. So I must write of death to overcome my fear of

death.

Starring up at the ceiling as the walls close in all around me, and I lie dying slowly,

but surely as the morrow will never again shine its brilliant light upon this ailing body of

mine. When I pass away, nothing remains. I vanish, and am seen no more. Ye shall seek,

but shall not find; I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.

They clothed me in clothes of death to free me from winter’s cold. And soon spreads

the dismal shade of grey, and my skin is growing mold.

I am nothing more than food of worms. I fade away as I wonder in a forest lined with

bones, and tombs where Necromancers call me home.

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When young, I never thought about death; only to write of it. Never in my wildest

dreams, or nightmares did I ever think that I, myself would be facing such horror this

early in my life.

“God giveth, and God taketh away,” As the old saying goes. I never gave much

thought to that saying until now, now that my life has reached its fragile end.

Family members pray by my bedside, but I don’t need their pity. What good is prayer

now? What good could possibly come from prayer?

As I write this, my body has already grown weak, but my minds wheels forever

turning and churning up ideas like clockwork. I could easily produce a thousand page

novel within a matter of days if I had that kind of time. Sadly enough, I do not. I have

only a handful of hours before the reaper places his cold bony hand upon my failing

heart, and replaces it with worm holes, and maggot slime.

5

Wake up in a coffin cell

Your life was but a dream.

The worms have ate your

Eyes out, now death has

Become your reality.

Horrible shadow of death, life all taken away; a black horror howling in pain.

He stood and stomped the earth, that horrible shadow of death. Till thy life is all taken

away, and nothing else remains, but blood, slime, and lizard brains.

6

Darkness shall fall

upon us all.

Death awakens

to your dismay.

Life has betrayed

our lonely souls.

To lie-in sleep

in rotten, decay.

7

The Grave

Dark, damp, and musty; the smell of moist earth and decay. It’s raining, and the

water droplets begin seeping into the soft ground all around me. An aged shadow fades to

fifty shades of grey to a worm infested grave.

Life is but, a greedy whore.

Handing over life to death; until life exist no more.

“Life still goes on…up there…”

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