Time is scarce; deadlines
Old as death, old as the sand
We draw them in: “On six days
You shall do all your work.”

But what if now were
Beyond the rest we all long for,
The far side of retirement,
An eighth day, a day
Without evening, without limits,
A day, a life, eternal, already begun
And with no end in sight?

Where then might we start?
What work might we begin,
What balls start rolling,
What creation set in motion?
Joyously and freely and calmly,
Without fear or price,
Knowing time was no object?

If life is hard
To predict, like weather,
Let us till the soil we love,
Sow in faith, water in hope
The wheat and tares alike,
Watch, and wait, for a harvest
And a feast that is still Today.


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