Andrea Raye

Today, oh what a day for me to be
Alive, yet only barely, might I add.
Interrupted, woke I from my sleep,
Astounded by my own damp, trembling hands.

Abruptly, jolting up, I was aghast
At witnessing a Being taking form.
While tapping to the ground tobacco ash,
A voice spoke that was clearly of the Lord.

“I am the great I Am,” Said God, Himself.
He pressed a cigarette against His lips.
“Alas! Take heed, this world has gone to Hell!
I’ve only stuck around to reminisce.”

“Oh Lord, my God! Why speak you unto me?”
And fell I to the ground upon my knees.

No one fears the thunder of My wrath.
“No one listens to Me anymore,
People do all things that I abhor,
To them My discipline is an attack.

“But you, My son, have listened unto Thee,
And may just be the only one who has.
To put you out of your own misery,
I’ll free you from these most repulsive lands.

“You ache, but there’s no remedy to cure,
You walk and never find a place to rest.
I want you free from this utter torture,
I plead with you My son, meet My request.”

Then from my breast I pulled my hand in fright,
And reaching out, I asked Him for a light.

I hadn’t heard His name in many years,
Nor felt His hand upon my wounded soul.
I must admit I rarely felt Him near,
But in His presence now, I felt quite whole.

We laughed together gazing on the world
With cynicism filtering our eyes.
I thought back on events that had unfurled
When I still wondered if God heard my cries.

Then putting out His cigarette, He said,
“The time has come to end what I once loved.”
While raising up His hand the heavens spread,
And fire reigned down from the skies above.

‘Tis strange how never once did I protest.
‘Tis strange to feel so morbidly undead.

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