Not Tomorrow

There will come a time
When all we’ve ever done
All our toil
All we would ever create
Will come to rest.

There will come a time
When words will cease
All would’ve, all should’ve
Will come to rest.

Let us not wait, no
Let us write now
Call now.
Play now.
Hug now.
Create now.
Listen now.
Care now.
Love now.
While we are able.
While it still matters.
While it is still yet

[Poem #77.  Author’s Aside:  As I’ve undertaken this overwhelming project of writing a poem a day for 2012, I’ve noticed something.  Almost every poem has come from me sitting down, looking at the computer screen, and thinking: what am I going to write about.

Every now and then, I’ll read something that will spark inspiration, or give me pause and I think about it for a time, then write about it that evening.  Yesterday’s poem is a perfect example.

This poem, I have no idea where it came from, maybe you needed to read it, maybe I needed it write it.  There are things I feel I must do while I’m able, while the time is Today.

I find myself reading/enjoying other people’s great work, becoming captivated at their expression of creativity.  Yet, what about my great work?  Could I have invested that time into myself by creating something to serve someone else.  Ping.  Epiphany.

Do you ever find yourself in the same place?]

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