Everyman Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A.Yousef

In an old, dusted theater,
the curtain lifts, the lights glow bright,
a simple stage set for a timeless tale,
where life meets death, hand in hand.

Here stands Everyman,
a face just like yours,
or mine, or the girl at the lunch table,
glancing sideways, unsure if today is the day.

His journey begins with casual steps,
scents of fear drift in the air—
What will he bring to the final reckoning?
Joy? Regret? A few good laughs?

He calls on friends, his laughter
ripples through the now-quiet void,
but see how they turn and flee,
shadows cast by selfish hopes.

We're all busy, running in circles,
longing for the quiet,
the kind that doesn't ask us
to carry the weight of our choices.

He turns to wealth, spreading folded bills like wings,
the paper a poor comfort on a lonely ride.
What's more empty than a purse
when friendship walks away?

Love walks in, cloaked in mystery,
whispers sweet nothings, then trails,
for even love afraid of dying
won't make the journey last.

Knowledge struts, proud,
reminding him of trivia and facts,
as if wisdom alone
could stave off the big sleep.

In this moment,
amid a sea of faces staring,
is there solace in the truth,
that we all must go alone?

Everyman breaks down,
his heart a collage of cries,
seeking comfort,
like a seed of doubt planted in dark soil,
hoping one day to push through.

In the final act, amid the starkness,
he realizes, loud and clear,
the weight of existence
is not about who walks beside you,
but how you walk with your own skin.

He stands before the curtain,
a mirror for every soul,
grappling with moments that linger
past the tick of the clock,
an echo echoing, through ages untold.

So we watch, grip the edge of our seats,
every heartbeat a reminder,
that even in solitude,
there's courage woven in the fabric of fear.

This tale, this dance with fate,
is a reflection, softly lit—
we're all Everyman, after all,
chasing endings in our own light.