The End

Endings are

sometimes soft,

like gently closing eyes,

the release of my breath,

the end of one single

beat of my


a last smile

or last kiss

through lips falling


into their last


endings are like

the stillness

of lake-water

shining brilliantly

under the full moon,

late in the night;

like the last drop of rain

or the last grain of sand

as I step softly out


the desert expanse;

the last splash of the rising tide

and the last flap of the bird

landing to roost for the


endings are the

last star in the sky

before the sun lights up

the horizon,

the last swing

of the pendulum,

the last sight

before my eyes


the last clod of earth

over my final resting place,

the last goodbye,

the last whispered wish,

the last story, and I turn

and walk away,

my bargain fulfilled;

some endings are soft,




there is no lack

and no more.

and no one-last-time,

no new beginning

no fumbled excuse

for finality,

they are, so simply,

so utterly,

so truly lovingly,

the End.

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