On the Scales of Life, Does Good Outweigh the Bad?

 In sterile white, beneath the hum of light, 

He lies entwined, a shell of fading might. 

Each labored breath, a question on his lips, 

Of deeds well done, or sins on soul's eclipse.

He searches deep, through memories' dusty halls, 

For moments bright, where kindness held its calls. 

A helping hand, a smile that warmed the day, 

A child's delight, a debt he chose to pay.

But shadows creep, insidious and bold, 

Whispering wrongs, tales left untold. 

Harsh words that stung, a trust he did betray, 

The path not taken, lost along the way.

The scales he builds, they tremble, precariously placed,

Good deeds in one, by darker counterfaced. 

His heart, a battlefield, where angels war with fiends,

Heaven's promise fading, as the torment ascends.

"Will forgiveness find me, in this fading hour?" 

He cries, a silent plea, devoid of power. 

Will pearly gates unfold, or flames engulf his fate? 

An answer sought, yet sealed by cruel, blank slate.

The monitor's beep, a chilling, rhythmic knell, 

His pulse grows faint, the final curtain fell. 

No fiery depths, no angels' serenade, 

Just darkness vast, where questions all evade.

In that abyss, no judgment, no reward, 

No heaven's bliss, nor burning, fiery accord. 

Just quietude, a stillness all-encompassing, 

The end of searching, the last act surpassing.

He is no more, his worries swept away, 

No heaven gained, no fiery debt to pay. 

Just the absence of all, where fear no longer clings, 

And life's last echo softly, gently sings.

For in the end, perhaps, it's not the deeds we claim, 

But simply being, part of life's flickering flame. 

And when it flickers out, there's naught to fear or crave, 

Just peaceful slumber, in the boundless, silent grave.

Unlikely Buddha 2024