declining reality

I wish
I've a malady.
An incurable malady.
An illness that I unknowingly bear.
Before that diagnosing chapter revealed.
I swear I'll be contented.

I can count my calendar.
The months and days remained.
I can spend my life budging on that old rug.
And lip sync that holy book.
Before the time my soul will escape.
Before I fall into a great remorse.
Before I knew that death is a truly definite.

I'll be grateful for it.
And be thankful 
As for our last yearning,
To meet Him
Is eventually attained.


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