Awakened suddenly one Saturday night,
Drenched in sweat in such a fright,
The reasons for this rude awakening,
As hard as he tried, kept escaping him.
Neither a crash, bang or a scream,
Nor was he startled by a terrible dream,
His life slowly flashing year after year,
In his mind, he instantly realized his fears.
His situation he knew was enormous in size,
Staring down at himself as he started to rise,
Transfixed on the body his soul occupied,
Until it disappeared before his very eyes.
He looked around to see nothing there,
Of his new surroundings he was unaware,
Floating naked shrouded in billowy fog,
A book appeared where his name is logged.
In the distance an odd mixture of sound,
From a beautiful harp to a wailing hound,
Wings flapping in rhythm, cries of the damned,
Yet no one was present, woman, child or man.
His attention turned back to the book,
Curious but frightened at having a look,
Still undecided, when only but a voice,
Spoke to him, \"This is your big book of choice.\"
\"My son the book that was put before you,\"
\"Is an account of your life, every word true,\"
\"Your pass into heaven or your ticket to hell,\"
\"The answer will come from the story it tells.\"
Just as he figured neither dreaming nor woken,
Standing in judgment, on his fate he\'s now choking,
Listening to the book read by the Lord, in all of his glory,
To a lifelong atheist, presently in purgatory.