Saturday, December 3, 2022

An Unfortunate Soul




I closed my eyes, and opened them, but all I could see was darkness. I felt a pain beginning in my toes and spreading upward through my feet, legs, thighs and then it zoomed to the top of my torso, neck, and head. My arms felt like darts shooting flames at the very same time. I clinched my teeth in utter pain and couldn’t comprehend what exactly was happening. Where was I? What happened after I went to bed and fell asleep? Could this be a nightmarish dream, or have I died and gone to …oh no, couldn’t be. There is no Hell. I was so sure of it.

I kept thinking I would wake up and it would be just a bad dream. I had heard a street preacher this past week talk about repentance and belief in Jesus, or we would suffer eternal damnation. I had yelled out to him that at least I would be in good company partying away with my friends, who also did not believe. He responded that my friends would not be with me, nor God. I would be alone. All alone.

My eyes were open, but I saw no flames, only darkness. If this were Hell, why could I not see anything burning? Where was the light? I felt like I was on fire and in complete agony, waiting to wake up to forget this horrible nightmare.

I didn’t wake up. I couldn’t wake up because I wasn’t asleep. As time went on and the horror show continued, surrounded in a darkness that smothered my very existence with no feeling of love, joy, contentment, pleasure, or companionship. I was powerless. In other words, I felt completely alone and horrible with the burning shooting through my entire body. It would not stop. I shouted out to God, but he did not respond. I shouted out to everyone I could think of to help me, but no one responded. It would not stop. I was alone, in total darkness and burning with flames I could not see but feel.

I had plenty of time to think about my past life as it had flashed before my eyes. My parents were Christ followers. I had been raised in the Church but had never been “born again." I just appeased my parents with going to youth group because it was more for the fellowship of other teens, not religion. I went along with it for the companionship, until I outgrew them all and became aware of the worldly things in life that brought me immense pleasure. I was my own God.

Now, I know why my grandmother sent me a Bible every year. I kindly asked her to stop, and she did once I agreed not to dispose of the last one. I realize now, too late, that she genuinely loved me. She loved me enough to speak the truth. I will have all of eternity to think about it. I had told her I didn’t care that I was going to hell. I didn’t know at the time the true meaning of hell until now. It is the absence of true light. The light of Jesus. In total darkness, alone and in pain I know who the light of the world really is. It was not the things of the world, it was not my friends, and most of all, it was not myself.

It is too late for me, but not for you. Find the true light. Worship the true source of life. Jesus warned us. He told us he was the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through him. He was right. I regrettably was wrong. 

Signed,

An Unfortunate Soul

Poem Template

A Whim to Write
On the art of starting again

I have a whim to write so write I will.
Can’t believe I am being this still.

I type and I type to no avail.
I can’t believe it, so I guess I will.

What says the key — can it really be
an a or a y? I really can’t say why.

I have a whim to write, so write I will.
When night time comes, I pick up my quill.

Some say I’m lazy and others say naught.
When I sit here and write, I’m not such a snot.

I love the sound of the keys that clank,
or the pen that strikes as I sit down to write.

Well here we go again, picking up where we left off —
not quite sure what to write, but at least it’s a start.

Good night my protagonist.
It was good to see you again.
I’ll finish your scene without you letting out a scream.

The days are long and the nights too short.
I’ll finish your story sometime in the morning.

With coffee brewed and in the mood,
I’ll pick up where we left off,
and again we will start.

— Written in 2015

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