- Alyson Lamb

It will not last the night.


It cannot continue;

It will not continue.

Surely as life has fleeting moments,

This one lasted too long,

Much longer than it should’ve.

Each day passes slowly,

Slower and slower.

With every step taken,

Taken heavier and heavier.

Each night passed quickly,

Though restless in sleep.

As it continued,

It couldn’t continue.

For the last day,

It all began to crumble.

Everything fell away,

Into an easy darkness,

Consumed by an uneasy life.

The night began,

Crashing into the unsettling reality,

Of what was to come,

Later than expected,

Sooner than wanted,

But timely in occurrence.

This night was darker than most,

Softly hinting at the harsh ending,

Inevitable in appearance.

Slowly the time passes,

With every moment quickly fleeting away,

Into a dismal despair of nothing.

With one slow motion,

Of a quick sharp thrust,

It ended so suddenly.

It was just over.

It felt to have ended,

As quickly as it came.

Nothing mattered anymore.

The past was in the past.

Day would always be day.

Night would always be night.

The future would always be there,

Continuing on from moment to moment,

With one less person to experience it.

With one slow motion,

Of one quick, sharp thrust,

One person left the past to rest,

And the future to thrive,

Long and well without her.