And when death finally finds me,
I hope it doesn’t come as a stranger.
I hope it leans close and whispers,
"Come now... the fight is over."
I hope it takes my hand gently,
like an old friend who knows my name,
who understands why my bones are tired
and my heart has learned to ache quietly.
I hope it says,
"You've carried more than your share.
You
"Do not remember the former things, Nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing, Now it shall spring forth; Shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness And rivers in the desert"
Isaiah 43:18-19 NKJV
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