Terminal

There is a terminal illness,

coursing through my veins,

It has caused me much harm,

and is the source of many pains.

I ate all the right food,

and got enough sleep,

I was diligent in exercise,

but the sickness too deep.

Yet here am I still,

dying day by day,

no chance of escape,

what more can I say?

But have no pity on me,

because you have it too,

It comes without warning,

on a day we don't choose.

It is that age old curse,

counting down from our birth,

Yes, death finds us all,

not enough money in our purse.

However, the repentant need not fear,

for there is life past this gate,

for those who find Jesus,

before it's too late.

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 6:23

This poem was a finalist in the September 2022 poetry contest