The End is not a word, O No, it’s rather a far, far place,
And to reach it you have to go, through a long and feverish race.
Your eyes and ears won’t work here, you’ll have to use your heart,
For the heart holds all the senses, insight here is an essential art,
For one thing love and hate, are sitting side by side,
Nearly hugging in fabulous unity, like a young couple taking a ride.
Life and death are also here, playing chess on a table upright,
The pieces are all in one color, that’s neither black nor white,
They play with each others pieces as they stare at a nearby lake.
For chess was once their addiction, and it’s a hard habit to break.
Madness and sanity can be spotted, sitting closely hand in hand,
Madness is just relaxing while sanity is playing with sand,
The sand has no color, as if it’s made of air,
But again the hand of sanity, pantomimes digging a lair.
Good and evil appear like a typical identical twin,
Only good has a clear old scar, like a deep double chin,
The scar is healing fast, and soon it will be gone,
Yet “soon” here means “never“, and “never” means “now” for fun.
The strangest thing I’ve noticed, an‘ I got it in a heart beat,
I have the same skin color, like everyone and everything I meet.
It’s neither black nor white, pretty close to everything else,
For the end has just one color, and the color is nothingness.
The Beginning
A. L. Gomaa© 2006
