Unknown Final Fate

I live today--always seeking some pleasure to gain, in spite of the pain--to live in joy despite sorrow--
To love today--still hoping to have more life, and more happiness in life, in at least one more tomorrow. 
But--more than that--hoping to live the time of another seasonal ring of the golden going year--
Loving every joy and pleasure--and every moment of painless peace still remaining, unfolding to me--
In my time of life--all the moments of my magical life, that flower and flee.
Much, much more--hoping that, somehow, after death, I will find new happy life--I hope, eternally.
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Whatever my ultimate fate may be, I feel grateful for my life; I give God my deep great gratefulness,
For all the gifts of life that I once had, that now have ceased to be--
For all the lights that still shine for me, even in the dense darkness that has found me.
Mortal grief now maims my magic--marring my life with pain, loss, and suffering--and fear--
In my final falling time.
But some blessings are still mine; and I am grateful for them.
I'm also grateful, just as grateful, for gone things, once here, that used to bless.
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I cannot know for sure if God is there, let alone if God feels care or any love for me.
Still, everywhere, I see wondrous designs in which I find a Mind of vast intelligence and powerful might.
My heart sings, as Louie Armstrong sang: "I think to myself: What a wonderful world!"
Yes, and I also sing that other great song--with some of the same, but also with some different words:
"Every time I hear a newborn baby cry...or touch a leaf...or see the sky...then I know why..."
Then I know why--whatever, at different times, I may or may not know, or see, think about, or believe--
I know why my mind sees the marks of Mind; and I know why I cannot, and could never, disbelieve.
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Yet there is so much suffering and sorrow, horrors of pain, terrible tortures, and heart-breaking blight!
Compassion and caring compel me sometimes to think, if only for a blink: "What a terrible world!"
The truth, to me, seems to be that life, and all its days and nights, are passing dreams.
This world--wildly interwoven with heavens and hells--is both terrible and wonderful--deep in mystery.
The stars shine serenely, and also the sun--unhelpingly--seeming indifferent--on both joy and suffering.
On the living, on the dying, and on the dead.
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Questions and doubts torment me.
Still, I think I see divine design in life--intelligent design--in living things.
And I feel great gratitude to God.
Job cried out in anguish, speaking of God: "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."
I in my anguish cry out: "Though He slay me, yet I am grateful to God for the time of my magical life."
Time, so sweet to me with giving, now burns me with harsh abrasions,
Stripping away my world, scraping my life, with the blade of its taking sands.
Cancer cuts away at my genetically endowed longevity, like a blood-dripping knife.
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When the final night falls on the last day for me, I cannot now know what, if anything, shall then await.
But I commend, with my heart overflowing with true gratitude, my life and spirit into God's hands.
I hope God's love is great enough to embrace, and forgive, even me; and to give me joy and life again.
May God save us all--even me--and forgive me for my lack of faith, and for every flaw, fault, and sin.
Thinking on suffering has cost me most of my faith; but my love and even my hope are still very great.
Into God's hands--hoping God is there, hoping for God's care, hoping He is my heavenly Father, too--
Into God's hands I commend my treasured self, my loved life, my dreams, and my unknown final fate.

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Written by Michael LP
aka MLP, aka Mr. Poet, aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC
(I'm just me)
Written on Monday, October 4, 2010    8:21 PM
70 degrees F.  Humidity 57%  Forecast: Overcast
Copyright © 2010 by Michael L.P.   All rights reserved.