I am not done

I lay dying.
I should have been laid dead. But I lay dying.
I saw Death beside me. I saw her outstretched hand.
She did not force the handshake.
She never normally needed to.
Most accepted it willingly, grasping for her fingers like a child grasping for their mother.
Some, of stronger heart, raised their hand slowly. Controlling the ascent but always determined. They always sped up the last couple inches though.

My hand, by contrast, was forced rigidly into my side,
(Albeit grasped in a fist, to resist temptation).
Death, well, she didn't do anything.
Except wait.
For she had all the time.

I announced to the unlistening world:
"There is a contract.
I do not do this for comfort.
I do not do this for power.
I do this because it needs to be done.
The world would take me.
And I would gladly rest.
But for the fact that I am not done."

Though the world didn't listen, Death stood stoic.
She nodded with minimal movement.
The hand withdrew, and she did not.
She would always be there. Until I was done.
There could be no hesitation.
There could be no doubt.

I started my longest journey, with Death as my constant companion.



http://imgur.com/gallery/6X0s9