The Beginning of My End

THE BEGINNING OF MY END On this cold morning as the wind blows through the trees, young buds shiver in the rain, and the time has come for me. Another time of waiting among dim lights and subtle hues. Photographs on the walls of churches, lakes, and barns. Early morning prayers are offered while business is being done. The business of life and death. The business of darkness and sun. The receptionist, trapped in a troubled world, wades through the reams. All the while quietly coming apart at the seams. Do I need a wheel chair? Have I had any falls? Blood work and x-rays. When will this all be done? Closer I am moving through the barren halls where smiling faces on the walls point out the way. Finally I am ready. Ready for the rays. Rays that will tell me if I have another day. Radiation in my veins. Waiting without pain. Soon the story will be told of a little lump that has grown. This little lump with a life all it's own will soon have it's way, and bring me ever so slowly to my end of days. Soon the image is made and the story is told. This is my beginning. the beginning of my end.