The Last Day
By John Herlihy

I
People await the last day with a sense of dread;
They pretend it will never ever arrive instead.
They cannot believe they will be no more;
They have no idea what is really in store.
The first day began in a shower of light;
When God lifted the curtain on the eternal night.
But what has a beginning must also have an end;
You can think what you like, but it’s only pretend.
The day will come when there is no tomorrow;
The days left to live seem to be only on borrow.

II
The last day will end with a trumpet and a cry;
The earth rolled up as a carpet, uttering merely a sigh.
As for light, it will gather in the heavens to the ground;
Its brilliance will be seen as a thousand suns all around.
The last day will disappear into the folds of eternal mist;
To await its return as a promise in God’s sacred tryst.
Hark, someone knocks, there are secrets to convey;
A promise whispered into eager ears with power to sway.
Listen! The first shall be last and the last shall be first;
Thus proclaims revelation in sacred words well-versed.