The machines continue to beep;

The slow metronome of life.

A countdown he’s willing himself to face.

Family drifts in and out; ghostlike in themselves,

Their expressions morbid; hope fleeting

But he watches nonetheless.

He thinks back on his time with them

The memories seem complete,

Guidance, wisdom, and sanctuary

He gave himself to them.

He hopes they’ll take those lessons learned

And pass them down to kin

Solidifying his presence forevermore

And a new life will begin.

So while he lies in a suspended state

Neither amongst the living nor the dead,

He’ll reminiscence about the time he had

And make things right with God.

As numbers on the clock rush by mocking his decline,

His heart struggles to keep pace, always losing time.

The world is closing in on him and darkness reaches out;

He makes not a single plea, but offers himself up.

He is out of order now,

Never to be fixed.

But his life is one of many

And will be cherished nevertheless.