“tell me Gilbarto,”
she whispered in my ear
on a warm sunny morning,
as we lay together,
her body resting
softly in my arms,
“what is the price to
be paid,
for simple existence,
in a world
that demands more?”
“so
much more;”
we
both knew our time
had almost passed,
as all time passes
in a world ruled by
time,
but still we clung to
one another,
hoping silently inside,
that maybe,
just maybe,
this would be the one
that would not pass,
even though we both
knew
it would;
I
thought on her question,
and decided there was
no answer,
that it was as open
ended
as the tomorrow
we both would face,
I thought of my life,
where it had been,
where it was going,
what it had learned,
and came to the
conclusion
that it too
had no answers,
a mass of swirling
contradictions,
neither beginning or
ending,
drifting like the
current
with no known
destination;
I
thought of His life,
so perfect and pure,
His words,
so simple,
yet so strong,
sharp crystal truth,
far beyond the
boundaries
of our limited human
comprehension;
He is
the king
of us all;
I
pulled her closer,
stroked her hair with
my hand,
tomorrow she would
board a bus,
and her and I
would be no more,
but today
we were one,
even if it was just a
moment;
sometimes
now
has to do,
in a world where
tomorrow
never comes.
.
.
