Chapter 17 11/7/11
Something has ended
And a chapter has closed
The book slammed shut
With the mystery unsolved
And the plot unfinished.
A murder has occurred
And all the money is missing
The grief stricken left penniless
While the guilty mock their pain.
The murderer sends messages
Taunting the police
And mocking the survivors
Calling in the night
Untraceable and clever.
He thinks he is immune
And he thinks he will escape
Because he has learned
From experience
And knows all the angles.
He leaves little evidence
Because he has a lot to hide
But it’s not enough to escape
He must take the credit
So they will know his name.
He likes to lie
And he likes to gamble
Because he has no conscience
And he has no soul.
He likes to swindle
And he likes to trick
Ever searching for secrets
To exploit.
He pretends to be good
And thrives on sympathy
Anything to escape punishment
To live and steal again.
Shameless and shallow
He gives just to get
Anything for money
And anything for looks.
She said she knew
That it would end badly
And that much is true
But it’s not over yet
Because nothing ever is.
Someone knows his secrets
And someday it will come undone
Because the truth will come out
And the ending has just begun.
If one person doesn’t do it
Then someone else will
A guaranteed solution
Unexpected but sure.
You don’t need to read it
To guess how it ends
Because deception falls apart
Just as sure as gravity
It's weight falls on the guilty
Someday and somewhere.
The book is finished
Whether we read it or not
And the author knows the end
Before we ever even guessed.
You can count on the end
Because it was planned from the start
A miraculous and poetic ending
Where everything makes sense.
The good rewarded
And the innocent vindicated
As the guilty lie in the street
Dead and gone.
11/7/11
If you try
And if you believe
You may know before you’re done
Because seeing is believing
What words can never show.
Everything has a reason
Even the horror
And even the death
But only through the lens of time
Will we ever understand.
The numbers and the days
Have a meaning
Predicting the future
And confirming the past.
We know not
All that we do
And many are those
Who have touched eternity
Only to walk away.
In the lost moments
And with family and friends
We have rejected the hands of greatness
Unseen and unknown.
What is, also was
And what was, will be again
Our names also numbers
And our numbers
Also codes.
Our cells contain instructions
And our spirits cannot be held
Held inside our bodies
By a silver chord of dreams.
We see and we know
But only in bits and pieces
The rest hidden
Where only the spirit
Can go.
Men have seen visions
And men have dreamed dreams
But all have seen the good
And faced an iron angel.
We mark our days
And wager on the numbers
But everything we ever needed
We already have.
We try and we try
But even the good also suffer
Giving up and giving in
The greatest of sacrifices
That no one ever knows.
I am blood
And I am bones
But there is more to me
Than what they have seen.
I too shall live
And I shall see the day
When everything adds up
And all shall return.
My name, my life, and my number
Are all said and done
But it is all I can do
Just to live, and believe.
In the end
It will all add up
At last, truly known
And truly loved.
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