I wait with the finality and stoic weariness of old age.

The days have been a blur in the ever ticking movement of God’s eternal clock. I have tried to see the world through the eyes of my friend, a cautious black crow who sometimes trusts me and other times not.

I wait in broken humility as the curtain closes on this earthly stage

Like the crow, I have lived in high places watching the world with boldness and power. Yet fear has always been but a breath away; there are others stronger than I, who have tempered my boldness when I would dare to venture from my lofty tower.

I wait in weary patience, accepting, yet still I am burdened as I turn this final page

My friend, the crow, consoles me in the beauty of his graceful flight, yet always watching, careful, and cautious.  Does he ponder his days as we troubled souls when we approach the coming night.

I await the inevitable, my creased brow and tired eyes bear witness to these last days

The majestic crow in all its black splendor lives simply each day untroubled by what tomorrow may bring.  He seems to mock my troubled soul.  Oh, prideful man, are you the master of your destiny?  Can you change your legacy or ever avoid the surety of death’s final sting.

I wait with troubled spirit.  Oh, deliver me, God, from my anguish I pray.

Do we come into being by happenstance?  Do we leave as though we have never been?  No; scream into the void of waiting blackness “my life has mattered”!  My head is held high yet I am humbled as I look upon God’s eternal expanse.

I wait, my yesterdays gone, my future cast in God’s mercy. I wait in hope in my final days