It begins with a nagging cough that comes to stay.

A general malaise that never goes away.

Then a conspicuous spot on the film.

“Nearly missed it,” he jokes.

As if to comfort.

But, I know.

 

And even as I leave his office,

Days before I return to confirm the inevitable,

Instinctively, I begin to plan.

Time to get my affairs in order.

Time to set matters straight.

Time to clear the air with you.

 

A life lived without purpose,

Is now centred around just one.

A life lived without care,

Now must have every moment count.

A life lived without responsibility,

Must now assess every next step.

 

Our sun dies in five billion years,

Our earth uninhabitable in just a billion.

My time here concludes far sooner,

Measured in mere months.

Twilight’s last gleaming beckons,

As I stumble towards inevitability.

 

© 2017 S Phua