The ashes of my life
Scatter in the wind,
The shadow of my substance
Now whispering, “the end.”
No echo of my being
Reminds that I have been,
No silhouette against the twilight of reason
As I descend
Into unmeasured darkness.
Still, I stretch a withered hand
In hope toward the one light
Who ever was my friend.
Bereft of all dependence
Left with nothing to defend
Will this blindness be by seeing?
Will grace from God deliver me from my sins?
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