The Loneliest Thing

It's the loneliest part of life,
That moment we all dread;
The fateful day the reaper comes,
To claim us when we're dead.

We can't share that experience,
Nobody understands,
Fear can't be eased at our last breath,
By holding someone's hands.

We feel the body shutting down,
As organs start to fail.
And when our final moment comes
No one can hear us wail.

That's the loneliest thing in life,
That you will ever face.
Inside you'll claw for one more breath,
Down into death's embrace.

And if that is the end for you,
Then it is as you fear,
When darkness washes over you,
You'll simply disappear.

But if the end should fail to come,
As you breathe that last breath,
And a light appears before you,
The moment of your death,

Will you have courage on that day,
To let yourself be judged,
By One with whom you took offence,
And you still hold a grudge?

Or will you flee into the dark,
And hide from heaven's light;
Separated from your loved ones,
As day is from the night?

And if that is the choice you make,
Can you accept the cost?
For the loneliest thing of all,
Is when a soul is lost.

And though you may not ponder this,
Tomorrow or today,
You can forget the things you've read,
Until that fateful day.

But as you struggle for each breath,
You'll hear this poem ring.
That instant, when the truth is learned,
Is the loneliest thing.