Sitting beside her hospital bed,
Holding her hand as she sleeps,
I close my eyes for a moment,
Tired. Only tired.
Nothing keeps.

I must look as if I am praying.
I wonder if I should,
But before I frame the words,
The answer makes itself heard.

It’s up there, in the title.
It’s the magical word.
I know it.
I hear it all the time.

I submit. I accept.
I bow low.
I follow the path of the flow.