So, as I age,

it seems

that even in my dreams,

my soul returns to those

old themes of what guilt or forgiveness

means to him who faces,

now,

from the bottom of the hour glass,

that last question,

that final step.

Guilt,

the eleventh hour Voice says,

is not the reminder

of the hot, horrid forsaking to come,

not the flames of some hell,

(Gods ultimate, lethal, gleeful gift to the sinner,)

a final reminder of what that flickering, orange glow on the horizon is,

the reward he stumbles toward

once he passes through deaths dark door.

No!

Guilt is the gentle prod in a whisper from God,

turning the sinner,

just in time,

toward forgiveness

and thus toward the golden light

of what ever heavenly hope

his ancient faith has taught him to believe.

A sinners sorrow for the harm his sin caused

is Gods final mechanism,

a road-sign in darkness,

turning the sinner to the victim

to beg forgivness

and then to God again,

for salvation

or,

at least,

to a gentle sleep,

dreamless

through

eternity.