Six Weeks And A bottle Of Gin

He sat alone in the darkness and remembered when.

He remembered silently, he remembered the way it was before…

He dropped his head; he wept, and then pulled another hit of gin.

“Quality over quantity” echoed in the stillness of his tattered mind.

Oh how he longed now for the days in which he bore no pain.

 he wiped his eyes, took another sip and sighed…

Time was once just an infraction on the calendar of his years

yet now, each precious second, each tick of times hand,

brought forth a multitude of new and dreadful fears.

“Quality over quantity, he heard himself again say,

“No Chemo, no radiation, just a natural passing away”.

He looked now at the clock which hung askew on the kitchen wall,

and he pondered the end, the certain and coming end of it all.

He wept bitterly, he wept all alone

and he realized for the first time that he would never go home.

 Six months to live the doctor did say…and now only six more weeks’ remain.

What could he have done he thought, what, if he could would he change?

He would change everything he thought…and he would change nothing at all,

For it is by these paths in life which defines who we are by which we choose

and it is from our choices that gives unto us the opportunity to both win and lose.

Therefore there is nothing that he would if he could change,

nothing, even if…even still despite this increasing journey of pain.

For he loved like he should, though not as long as he would like,

he was kind to others and diligent in his duties in life.

Yet now it is the fear of the unknown which has brought him to this day,

It is the knowing of not knowing what to expect in conclusion of this game.

He looked out the window now that overlooked a wet and deserted street.

Everything was silent withal one exception

and that being the blinking “Jesus Saves Sign” that buzzed loudly when it blinked.

He tore away from his almost spent stare

 and rose bit unsteady to his feet.

He walked slow and deliberate in the direction of the door,

and he mumbled softly…God, if you are real…tell me you are there.

 The light on the sign blinked again,
and instead of a monotone buzz, there came a voice from within.
I am real… and I love you

 J. Allen Wilson © Six 2006