It's two in the morning,
The end of December.
I'm staring at the abyss that is my ceiling.
Pondering my own death,
Which I've been contemplating often
As of late,
Not in a suicidal or sadistic kind of way,
But rather,
The fear that comes with embarking
On that journey.
This chapter is coming to its finality
And not where I wanted it to end.
A cliffhanger of majestic proportions.
Tomorrow will be the last day for many,
The first for others.
I'm broken
Physically,
Spiritually,
Mentally.
I dream of a lady every now and then,
She always appears the same,
Resting on a wooden rocking chair,
The smell of pinewood fills the air,
A lady bug lands on her right index finger.
She stares back and smiles,
Sunlight reflects on her pupils.
Perhaps it is my grandmother,
Telling me she's in a better place.
I think I'm the lady bug searching for somewhere to rest.
I stare at nothing, and see my reflection.
At first there was nothing but darkness,
Then God said "Let there be light."
My wife turns on the bedside lamp,
Passes me a pillow and tells me good night.
Lights out once more.
My dog begins barking,
Or a noise between a bark and a whimper,
He does that often.
I caress his back and he grunts,
but at last, his nightmare is over.
I stare at the ceiling and the weight of the darkness is heavy on my eyes,
So I close them and ponder some more.