Eternal Happiness

Consumed with passionate rage, the
Rest of the World amounted to nothing but,
like the pitiless dead below,
Failure.

There are false directions in The World that
Strain, that bend backward, that bluff before
This new Resistor has won his goal.

Opened arms, to the dark-green
Sky above, there he stands on
Black dirt, waiting and waging his life.

A bolt of light, to strike this patient
Man, to wake him from an ill-fitting
Life; his only mistake was
Not trying hard enough.

Consumed with passionate rage, this weary
Soul fell on his knees, on his last, thin
Straw. His legs sink into the soil.

His final gasp, like the first gasp of air from a
newborn child; his lungs expand, but
the air is so thin. Thinning, thinning,

Failing…

Failing…

Taking a fistful of dirt, he squeezes, clenches,
Crushes large dirt clumps through his tired fingers.
His knuckles crack, his vessels burst,
His tears trail silently down his face.

Consumed with passionate rage, a voice
Echoes through this night; an angry
Sound, shaking the ground.

His waist is now
Buried in the cold soil. From that voice,
He hears the words. His eyes are closed.
His tears are warm; his head is bowed.
The dark-green sky, it swirls above.
Dry mouthed and weak, he sinks in.
The pitch-black dirt consumes his body.
His tears are warm. His tears are warm.
Crushed soil sifts through his fingers.
A prayer today; “Tomorrow, I’ll pray.”

Sinking slowly down into the trembling ground
As the voice continues calling,
This man’s last words were,
“I never thought of falling.
I never thought of giving up,
Of stepping back in time.
I never had the kind of heart
To give up while I’m trying.”

But now he’s falling.
Now he’s failing.
He’s floating.
He’s found his
Reasons for taking everything.

All the pressures.
All the tests.
All the hours spent alone
Just trying to resist.

All around him, lightning splits the air.
His chest has dipped below the surface.
He rests his head back as the dirt trembles
Around his upturned hands, burying his palms,
Quivering upward along his fingers,
And consuming their tips.

Soft dirt enters his ears.
His dark hair matches the ground.
His mouth gapes. Dust clings to the wet lines that
Branch across his cheeks.

And, using the last bit of energy,
Always taking it to the limit,
His life’s trademark move,

He smiles.

Consumed with passionate love,
He exhales. His work is done.

There’s no need to be upset anymore.
There’s no need to search for challenges.
There’s no need to question life’s direction.
His goal has been fulfilled.

Eternal happiness.

… And the soil quickly settles above his head.