There was unease,

An unwelcome shiver

A restlessness, a feeling of something other-than

If not for a lack of belief

A refusal to concede the unknown

As magical

The spiritual world, as an essential quality of sentience

The shadow in the corner as a presence

Every whisper, the answer to a prayer

The kindness of a stranger likened

To the parable of the Good Samaritan

Every selfless act weighed

As a Damascene conversion,

He would have concluded that he was not alone.

The hairs on his arms stood erect

Something was in the air

But he was sure it was a change in barometric pressure

He was understimulated

The rate of his beating heart failed to keep pace

With his rampant imagination

There was nothing else,

To think otherwise would be a panacea

Not to be swallowed.

He was not about to look for redemption

In an empty gesture of contrition

He would stand by his conviction

Until the final bell

Maybe then he would contemplate

The possibility of faith

When it was too late to correct himself,

Many do, so it is said

If he was wrong then he could be consoled

With the knowledge that he had lived

An honest life

Lived as he had loved, with all of his heart

It was all he could do to honour her memory.

No sanctimony or moral superiority

No hypocrisy or religious bigotry,

There will be plenty enough gristle

Caught between the teeth

Of a wide-open hell’s mouth for insincerity to fester,

Just common decency,

He did believe that should be enough

To be thankful for, in a life well-lived?

He smiled, the moment had passed

His balance was restored

The sun had broken through

And Hell was still a place on earth.