the gentle art of the last word

Last words
in tales told:
always poignant
precisely weighted.

Yet in messy reality
rarely so
we may not know
which words will be last words…

And many spoken
I would gladly have recalled
or re-formed
to be more.

But once released,
meaning unleashed
can no more be regathered and re-tamed
than minutes rushing by can be reclaimed.

And what of tomorrow?
I have no means to know
what words will be final statements there,
what chances will conspire
which other souls collide with mine
at many future points in time
whether friends longtime or newly met
who I may know
only then
and not again,

But here,
my words have power
whether last ones,
first ones
or somewhere between,
because of the One who is all of these;
I have been granted a gift:

It is given to me
to live now
to love now
to speak now
to be present;

For every word I speak
is my last word – 
I will choose to make it a good one.

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