The Good Fight

I’ve run the good race and I have fought the good fight.

I have not felt well this day, nor did I last night.

Long are the days which in strange rhythm come and go.

Cancer treatment by day; work by night, the weakness continues to grow.

I’ve run the good race; I’ve fought and fought the good fight.

Yet, I grow evermore weary with each coming morning and night.

Sometime sleep calls my name as I crawl on bruised knees to the finish line.

I wonder of it’s worth and ponder the delicate nature of time.

To but sleep with angels; to be engulfed by eternal light.

Oh but to bring now a quick peace to the tempest of this fight.

So much can one soul take; so much can one take of the challenge of day.

Sometimes the thought of eternal sleep comes to mind with the knowledge that I fought the good fight in every way.

J. Allen Wilson © 10/18/2011