Sunday, November 1, 2020

Realized . . .


. . . 'The Hours' here for you in its latest, and possibly finished state . . . 

On and on flow the hours
Like rolling waves upon the sea.
And like so many and so varied flowers,
Each one some nectar for the bee.

We're keeping tabs and writing numbers,
Logging each minute in the book.
We have a choice to
Either dread the counting 
Or see the forest if we look.

Store the knowledge.
Hoard the wisdom.
Take the years
And just run like crazy.
Party’s only
What you make it.
Make it into the 
Best you can.

There’s no protection from the power
Generated everyday.
The blazing lights shine 
From each lofty tower
To illuminate the way.

Things that never occur to you
In the spring.
Become clear with each
Passing season.

All options must be on the table.
All points of view be understood.
And if you don’t do ev’ry thing you’re able,
Make sure you do those which are good.

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