Concrete shadows that attract
unhappy hearts. Miserable rats
rushing about in dispensary mazes.
I hear the chuckles of the silence.
Does it mock? Does it understand?
Freshly tinted hate turns darker
on broken promises never sustained.
I grapple with standing guard
over the legacy of my ending life.
To leave what behind? Trinkets
and baubles to amuse the rabble?
Things. Just things. Things collected
and things saved. I shall promise
some of these things to the remaining
hands that loved me in my time.
Over in another thought, where I
allow my eyes to open in wonder,
are the forces of resentment that
channel from the brain. What time
does the end begin? What will be
my final thoughts? Oblivious
perhaps, to the jungle around me?
Or aware only of the presence of
God as He takes me to my new home?
Maybe looking back, I shall only
be free of the pressure and pain?
This would certainly please me.
Uncertainty is a price that is paid
when certainty has been forgotten.
Too many rambling words get
misplaced in meaningless gestures.
I hold myself ready. I am resolved.
Defeated but victorious. Pleased
to dwell in celestial images of
beautiful places still to visit.
Do not worry too much about
the solitary walker who is on his
way to the destiny he must achieve.
Life is a process. This I believe.
Death, but one of the stages.