Optimistic Pessimism

The End

This is the end...
The end of wise friends,
Of broken trust we can mend,
The time together we could spend,
For the moment has come so my will to bend.

Malformed wood leans on my weathered back,
And the Romans around me feel under attack,
I drag and drag, while the ground is scorched black,
They heft me up onto the wood and then - crack!
My arms and legs have been strung up onto this plaque.

Father, is this really the right thing to do?
To die and then be born anew?
For Judas feels that he threw,
My holy life into the gutter like a shrew,
And will have regrets for his whole life on which to chew,
Yet I do not fault his decision too,
As I love all, sinners and the holy few.

Son, you must be strong,
And it will not be long,
Until we are together again as one,
I'm sorry that the people watch you as a throng,
Of people who sing along,
But your passing I will not prolong.

Let me return to them once again,
The lives of men I will not feign,
Or let Hades claim them in his chains,
The cold night sky shows me my deign,
Yet I still want to protect every last flourishing grain,
And fight against humanity's tiring strain.

Very well, my only Son,
I will miss you greatly as time goes on.
Shut your eyes and let the light shine,
And next time you open them,
You will bring great joy and surprise.