Success at last, your third swipe aimed at me,
Now I, a shattered egg, upon the floor—
Embracing ignominious destiny,
A state that only God can now restore.
Vengeance, blessed to grace the vainest heart,
A fleeting triumph crowned with bitter pride;
But shards once cracked no mending hand imparts,
The yolk runs out, the soul lies crucified.
Behold life’s essence, ruined past repair,
Hope rent asunder—vows betrayed, laid low;
The pith of mortal soul razed to despair,
The blackest fury evil could bestow.
I remember thinking, there as I fell—
If this is heaven, kindly give me hell.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.