Terrorist

“There were body parts all over the steps down to the beach.” 

You know what you have done.

You may be sitting with your fellows now.

There may be water in your hand.

You may be unable to drink.

 

At the point that you die, which may be

Many years from now. Peacefully in a bed.

Or sooner, from some illness or accident;

At the point you cease, your spirit will find itself

Awake.

 

Awake. Aware.Alive in Death.

You will then be given your gift. Your reward.

 

Crowding upon you will be the Pain of 

ThoseYou crushed. 

And magnified into a universe, you will live

In this pain as a world of a life time for each cry uttered.

 

Worse than the pain, will be the realisation

That you guessed wrong. 

 

Unable to move, unable to flutter an eyelash, blind

Yet aware of your surroundings; day upon day will

Be year upon year; and it will go on. To the ending of your world.

 

It will persist, this drowning in an anguish-lava.

Even motive will be beyond you until you have

Worked. 

Worked at resolution through realising

You are now unworthy to resolve.

 

Deserted. Until every particle of the universe

And all the nothing inbetween echoes

With your realisation that one life taken is

The Universe Destroyed.

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