Charles Anthony Dickens
A Preview Of My Death 'an Ending To All Things - Poem by Charles Anthony Dickens
There is an ending to all things; should I foresee my own?
To see the spot where I shall lie, the day that I expire and die.
Is someone there to comfort me or am I there alone?
That day that I lay down my head.
The day that they pronounce me dead.
To see the rigors of my flesh… turn slowly into stone.
To hear the gasp of my last breath
To leave this earth and onto death
And gaze back down the path of pain and pleasure, I have known.
There is an ending to all things; To all things that began.
From birth pains of the life of it, through conflicts and the strife of it,
Yet finding what it cannot do, whilst learning what it can.
And all the things it cared to do,
And others that it dared to do …
From taking, first, it’s walking steps, until at last, it ran.
So many times it stumbled.
So many times it tumbled.
Beginning as an infant, child… and ending as a man.
There is an ending to all things, to all things that are known
Through all the days and nights of it, the darkness and the light of it
Look back upon the life I’ve led; to see how I have grown.
To those that have adored me,
And others that abhorred me,
The way that I have treated them; the seeds that I have sown.
So take the best and worst of it,
The vile and evil curse of it
And pass it down to someone else and I shall grieve alone.
There is an ending to all things; it’s fundamental law.
So glance back to the past of it, the finish and the last of it
Remember not; what you were told; but only what you saw.
And only keep the best of it.
Dispose of all the rest of it.
For someone else will always drag this spirit to the floor.
Look deeply at the child I was,
How weak and meek and mild I was
And think about the damage that produced this dismal flaw.
There is an ending to all things, Should history serve me well?
Detached, remote, aloof of it; still verifies the proof of it,
And yet I stand upon the spot where other soldiers fell
And feel that in the calm of it,
I’m safe and from the harm of it.
Could I not see the warning signs, nor hear the solemn knell?
The things that came before me,
Should somehow reassure me
Yet, where I sense salvation lies, could be the path to Hell
Then tell me of what purpose is this life that I have led
Or anything to do with it, or why I should go through with it.
It seems a waste of everything I’ve ever done or said.
If any soul has learnt from it,
Or anything be earned from it
Then take away this worthlessness I feel within my head
And hold the proof before me,
that it may reassure me
That there is value in my life… worth more than being dead.
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