These words are hard.
Think of them as small shards of crystalline truth;
I throw them out, each alone, and hope you will be struck by them.
Some may stun you with their beauty, some may cut you to the bone,
and some will do both, if I do my job at all.
I’m not always sure why I have been put here to do this job,
too many times I am the angel of death,
but sometimes I am the saver of life.
The war I fight is a war of days.
I can prevail only for a time, since all life ends.
So there is no power at all within my hands,
except to give the gift of moments.
Moments shared, moments that death comes to take.
I can not hold him off forever,
but I can sometimes say come again old friend, old nemisis, old foe.
Come again some other day hence and give us just a few more days to spend together upon this earth.
Sometimes he will listen and go for a time,
Sometimes he won’t, and sometimes the release he brings
is the only comfort that can be hoped for.
One way or another we will all find ourselves trapped in his shadow
for a time,
and all of the philosophies, religions, and beliefs we hold
will rise and fall and rise again like waves on the sea to buoy or drown us
until we arrive at some method by which
we can find a way
to live in the valley of the shadow.