As the leaves on a tree bows down when the wind blows by, so do my eye lids cover my eyes as my hour glass almost run out. 31,025 1/4 days lived well. Those times I used to row against the roaring tempests are but memories to cherish now.
I remember the day at the crossroads, I together with my found rib, where I had to decide either to leave or to come with her and as I should in the darkness of my doubts only for her to lift the lamp of love where I saw in her face the path I should take.
Many moons of anticipation and worry characterized my waiting for the sprouting of the lily before me now. Day and night, sunrise and sunset, year after year, toiling against all odds of life to fortify your foundation and secure your future but first to put something on the table.
And now the ceiling walls, though white, appears to me, as a hole. The journey of my life has come to an end. The journey of the upper hand, where the weak die and the strong survive, even though I was strong, I now have to succumb to ”it”.
Memories of a life well lived now flashes in memory like the sea washing away its shore. And now visions of a brighter after life lives in my heart. My heart is beating the nunc dimittis.
Now I can hear my heart beat. I can see myself go numb. I feel stressed up, and I think I just had my last breath.
