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.
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