The Walk

Through many perils and snares, I have already come. Through the deepest valleys, I have tread. Parched on the highest mountains I have seen hope. And in crossing paths felt dread. Yet with each step and each elongated breath, I draw closer to that day. The day when I to shall be laid away.

With remorse do I see it come?

Many steps may still yet lie between it and I. But what will my last breath be, will the words of this beaten and bruised traveler be ones of nice and of trivial things? No, I think not on that day. No that day when this journey shall pass my words will be far from insignificant things.

I hope to speak of love, and with my last breath finding the perfect thing to say. But one never knows when a soul lets go the utterance they shall convey.

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