Terminal

A terminal illness has crept into our soul and we only have so long to live.

We spend all of our time thinking about what is going to happen to us.

We are a beautiful hourglass slowly losing all of its sand.
     Time is Running Out.

Doomsday is near and I am Andromeda tied to the rock with no Perseus to save me.

     Do we move forward?

We certainly can't move backwards. There is no going back and we can't stand
     at this impasse forever.

There is no choice, but to move forward.

And what a bitter future lies ahead? What tests that we cannot pass?
What pieces of ourselves must be sacrificed to the heathen gods for just a few moments more?

Is all of this in my head?
     Or am I doomed to awaken next to the bones of what could've been beautiful once?