Vigil

...inspired by 'Inside And Outside' by Allen Tate As moonbeams settle softly on her face, lay bare the gaunt and haggard visage there, a woman whose whole life was spent in care for those ran and won another race. Those stippled hands, the measure of her grace, her shriveled arms, now wasting in despair, her saddened eyes so sorrowful and spare, a broken soul who could not keep apace. Wilting now, her lissom body gone, wishing there were something left to say, countenance once sparkling, now wan, as she prepares to make that final trip to glory, to the everlasting day when pain no longer whispers from her lip. Those who stand in grief can only wait and ponder just what might have been, but death is drawing nigh, it's much too late, her countenance so sallow and so lean. Thoughts turn to their own brief mortality, as they reflect on how they will atone, and justify their impropriety. One cannot cheat the Reaper, foil his plan, and live a life of immortality, His grip is irresistible, and none can bypass destiny, its fickle charms, so let her sleep in peace, in purity, and rest forever in His loving arms.