My grave is waiting for me

An empty tomb awaiting my wandering

​

My heart, pounding nearer to its end

Ticking, ticking

A heartbeat, a count to my deadline

​

Each season passes, much as my own

Reminding me, in the refinement, I will atone

From sprouts, to trials, to release, to emptiness

What once was no longer can be found

Spring, summer, fall, winter

​

I cannot recall much anymore

I know they are there

But they are distant blurs of the past

​

My hand cannot reach them 

But I know they are there 

And I know I was happy 

There is a faint echo of a child's laughter

I was happy

​

My lungs have felt tighter than usual 

As if someone were pressing on my ribcage, waiting for it to burst

My heart, pounding nearer its end,

Ticking, ticking

My lungs, lighter and lighter

My joints creak in resentment as I stand

My wrinkled hand reaches for the blinds, determined

​

I will watch the sunset 

I will watch God paint the sky

I will watch the world bid me goodbye 

One last time

​

I will sit with Time and make us tea

Together, we will laugh, we will mourn, we will wait

​

I will sit and watch everything I've loved softly fade

And I will sit and watch everything I've never known gently carry me away 

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