I fall through an open door, down and down toward an endless ocean floor. It’s not a real ocean, yet it scares me to my core. I know just what’s in store.
The screaming sea takes hold of me and I can’t hold my breath. Though I’ve died already, I’m terrified of death. I’m drowning and I’m breathless, but I just don’t seem to die. This bleak, vast sea of empty ignores my sorrowed sighs. Now I have no tears to cry, only anger held inside.
I’m swallowed by the darkness and my lungs are giving out. As I’m drowning for forever, it’s to rage I am devout. I tremble as I stumble and I know I can’t get out.
There is no up or down in this dark with wailing sounds. There are no demons making rounds because their heads are also down. They feel the same weight of torture, their heads do not wear crowns. My gritted teeth can’t relieve the anguish in my skin. Here there’s a burning wind, one I’m trapped so deep within. As it burns and blows I remember all my sins. It won’t end, and now… now I don’t remember anything else. No gentle breeze or the way frozen water melts. There’s no such thing as “freeze” or “cool”, only endless Hell.
There’s anger in my chest which brings a constant pain. Every single moment reminds me of my stains. I am filthy and I’m open, and I have no dignity. I am naked without a cover, but I find no sympathy. In my life, I earned each damned and painful second. I chose to feel God’s justice when I hated Christ’s kind beckons. Now my sins are forever reckoned. My sin against the Lord who made me paid for this fulfillment of the law: so now I’m entombed in torment without any hope of pause. I weep and gnash my teeth, as I reap that road so broad. I laid my life, my treasure, before Hades’ gaping maw, and now… now I can’t recall why I hoped it would be worth anything at all.
I felt compelled to warn my brothers about where and how I fell. But this was just a moment; the plea was smashed and quelled. Within this unending darkness, I’m not the personnel. I’m receiving just rewards as indebted clientele.
I paid for this farewell.
– Cliff Tomkulak
