A lobby filled with souls, yet no sound.
They await quietly, the ones to whom their hearts are bound.
The unfortunate ones with a shrouded slate.
Who're standing on the precipice, on death's gate.

Fervid prayers beneath muffled breaths reverberate.
Some with teary eyes while others exuberate.
The occasional ding of the ATM machine
Receptionists counting with eyes keen.

Here people bargain, money for a possibility
That the fate of the ones they love would fall in earth's vicinity.
Sadly, it's not always a straightforward deal.
Sometimes, it's preordained that loss and pain is what they'll feel.

As they look on and wait from behind a veil.
Minds flooded with anxious thoughts and hearts stale.
Spend nights awake in those chairs nocturnal.
What they wouldn't give for their love's returnal.


© wolf’s cub