there are a million
small deaths waiting–
one for each of us
predicted, certain
each end as real
as every beginning
if this world does fall further
past gravity’s tumble
we do not need to reach ashes
before our rise & singing flight
there are degrees of ending
& degrees of becoming
happening underfoot
unrecorded in this now
daily something dies
& some other thing wakes up
every second of this spin
eventually
mine is coming
Related articles
- apocalypse poem #1 (susandanielspoetry.com)
- apocalypse poem #2 (longing for apocalypse) (susandanielspoetry.com)
- apocalypse poem #3 (daily faith) (susandanielspoetry.com)
- apocalypse poem #4 (it’s temporary) (susandanielspoetry.com)
- Apocalypse poem #5 – the apocalypse survivor kit (susandanielspoetry.com)
- apocalypse poem #6 – the prophet (susandanielspoetry.com)
Susan Daniels Poetry 
To be idle is a short road to death and to be diligent is a way of life; foolish people are idle, wise people are diligent.
~Buddha
Charlie–wonderful quote and thanks for sharing it. I am striving to be wise and diligent, but usually end up being foolish and busy 😉
You are a kind & Gifted soul. You are still a human being who strives to pursue what she wants. 🙂
Oh, now you are making me blush! Thanks so much, and also thanking you for sharing your thoughts here.
You are so welcome. Your words and ambitions thrive you to inspire those around you who want to feel hope is not lost. 🙂 Thank you for you being you. 🙂
You make the world a better place.
this is poetry…deep, brimming with philosophy and challenging us indirectly to live each day to its fullest!
Thank you, Noel–you got it…you always do!
Nice one. I love the “each end as real as every beginning” line. Wonderful.
Thank you, Terry. I especially like that thought too.
A nice portentous tone, without hyperbole. Now stop F*ing with you blog! Simple Panda is becoming confused!
Oh, sorry, complex Panda. The other theme was just too cute, with happy little elves, to be the backdrop for a series of apocalyptic poetry. It was far too dissonant. Promise I am done, really. The Santa with hate tattooed on his knuckles more suits my yuletide spirit…
Yay – down the chimney, neck the sherry, punch the kids and fuck off home! Bad Santa Rules!
Thanks! I thought so! No milk and cookies left for this dude–better be a shot of (good) whiskey and a bowl of pretzels to cut through all the sweet crap we feed him.
A planet with parts unliving, yet each atom has a chance to be a part of a life before returning to the pool of potential participants, awaiting another go.
Now that, that is a wonderful insight Nelle. Thanks for sharing it!
Phenomenal writing!
Thank you, Mama!
When one is born , what’s left is to die.
It’s fact
Reality
Every second of this spin!
You a powerful way of telling us to live life to the full! Love this piece!
Aw, thanks P! Appreciate it. Are you still incognito on here–so I know not to call you anything but P?
Depressing and hopeful at the same time, and done beautifully.
Thanks, Georgia. Heck, this whole series has been a little on the downside, no?
Susan ~ Personally I understand this so deep ~ and it reminds me of Christ who repeatedly teaches us that there are degrees and different deaths within & without ~ You’re amazing woman ! XO Debbie
Debbie, thank you so very much!
Cowards die many times before their death, the mighty taste of death but once. This is so profound, Susan
Thanks, Celestine. I think this one was ***the***poem of the series for me.