He stands between the living and the dead,
as ailing lungs no longer understand
the expectations of a heart in dread,
not willing to let go of all it planned.
Though comatose, his mind exerts its will,
Not giving up, nor knowing how to cope;
As loved ones, keeping vigilant, instill
An ember of illuminating hope.
Sad we cannot return to days of old,
Of playing ‘til the streetlights called us home;
Now, heart-in-throat, we watch events unfold;
Our desperate pens add chapters to his tome.
Yet, God imparts His own life-giving breath,
to give eternal life that transcends death.
“… just around the corner from the light of day” The Boss
You lost the battle to breathe earth’s air this morning, but gained eternal, celestial air. You are loved, and always will be. See you on the other side, Punk.