the gift of time, is a precious gift
of love and hope and all the most treausured bliss
will you stay if i asked you too,
or give me a minute, or perhaps slightly over two.

i wanna say im sorry, and that i wished that i could've spend more time with you,
but then it begins to seem meaningless, because reality hits you.
i wanna hold on to your frail hand, i wanna sit beside you.
i wanna sing a song of hope, or sit there wondering if the wounds would heal.
i wish i could fathom the amount of pain, or perhaps, just begin to understand what it means to wane.

please lord jesus, please hear our cry,
hear my cry at least, just one last time.

it isnt over, cos im not home yet.
dont let it be over,
and dear Lord jesus let the cells NOT spread.
if im being selfish,
then please let her be spared.
but its a little unfair, for the pain we all cant bear.

so in our sadness, let there be smiles,
and in the uncomprehendable sorrows, a touch of - faith hope and joy







how can this be. how can this be!
my eyes are tired. i am tired.

- donmoen; hiding place