Being Mortal

Faint grows the glass
And fainter still 
This glass will come to see,
Until that day
He only knows
When I will cease to be.

Thought of that day
Serves to inspire
I tremble at the moment,
In gentleness
My Only Hope
Learned upon His summit.

I’d not suppose 
Absent regret
My eyes to close in slumber,
Yet know as sure
On His return
I’ll open them in wonder.

Copyright 2016. L.L. Shelton.

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