The End of the Endless.

If I woke up tomorrow upon an open plain,
I'd be content with nought to lose,
And the rest of the world to gain.

And if this life is all there is,
Then I could die to spite you,
Just to give a meaning to all this.

But if your books are right,
Then I'd be trapped forever,
In the land of fire and endless night.

Or if you were to die in my stead,
I still wouldn't keep the company
Of cannibals on broken bread.

Because these days it seems,
Men of both extremes,
Seek to rip the world apart,
By it's jagged seams.

In the end, it's not that it matters,
The moments in time you cling to,
The tatters,
Of memories, long lost and tucked away,
To keep them safe and sound,
For when you rest underground,
Or maybe to keep them safe from you.

Because we never leave them be,
Embellishment grows rampant,
Happiness rarely resides in what was,
But what you make it.

And when all's said and done,
I hope that this life is all that there is,
Because there's no pleasure in life
Quite like a long rest at the end of the day.

A long.
Well deserved.

Rest...