Illness Takes This Day Poem by Frank Avon

Time is running out -
so much to say -
so much unsaid -
and yet I am without -

without words
without images
without lines
without a single verse -

these two
are all that I receive:
'Forgive me, Lord,
for I am a sinner'
'I believe,
help thou mine unbelief' -

that's all I receive,
maybe that's all I need -
and gratefulness for a life
filled with richest blessings -

one scripture
I've seen most often fulfilled,
and some folks insist
it isn't even a scripture,
but I believe it is:

'There's a divinity
that shapes our ends,
rough-hew them
how we will.'