Chisel not my name onto elegant stone, so you that I love might become slave to a time and place that no longer holds my soul, to which you could become tied, lost in sorrow and life’s limitations.
Rather, joyfully cast my dust to the wind, so I may dance on the breeze, and one day as the leaves rustle gently overhead, you will feel me there, riding a ray of sunshine kissing your face, and I’ll whisper in your ear, “Remember to live free.”
Happy
True, real, enduring, happiness is being at peace with who we are.
Your life is precious, so spend your moments wisely. Tick-tock, oops, they’re gone!
“Time is the school in which we learn, Time is the fire in which we burn” are the profound last lines of the poem, Calmly We Walk through This April’s Day, by Delmore Schwartz. It’s a beautiful philosophical ponderation on the passage of time, with a particularly great wrap-up last stanza.
The seconds, minutes, hours tick away relentlessly. Our lives are busy, and inundated with many distractions and responsibilities. Lately I’m looking at my age and the years that have passed, and thinking, “Wow! It’s going faster than I ever could have imagined when I was 18.”
Realistically, we don’t have time to sit around and ponder endlessly about the value of time and our lives. But, it’s useful to carve out a little time (from time to time) for such introspection. Because your life IS precious, and the clock IS ticking. Ask yourself in this moment, are you spending it the way you would really like to? In reply to that, I will close with my poem Tick-tock Madman:
Tick-tock Madman
That round evil man with his shallow pretty face leers from my wall. Cruelly and incessantly, he chips away at my life with his sharp little pick-axe.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
My days mete out in an endless dribble of tasks and responsibilities, and he watches me. Be on time, get it right! Get up again, do it again. and again, and again, and again.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
I thought he was my friend that insidious little man, Mom said he was! Just dress for success, always be on time, and your life will be right.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Then one day I woke up and my life felt all wrong. Where are my dreams you cunning little man? You stole them while I toiled to your
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Oh poacher of my hours! Is there time for me? Still hope for me? The Me you took while I played by the rules, always obeying time.
And that smug little man with his false pretty face just stares coldly at me from his unfeeling wall. Silent he is, but for the relentless
Susan L Hart / Author 