we want time,
and time,
and more time, to what end?
will we die happier if we live a long life
or if we live gratefully
for temporary things,
love, kinship, a smile, eyes that truly see

look at the trees,
i doubt they complain about the years they don’t have.
it seems enough to stretch their branches toward the sun,
to witness thunder and soak up fresh drops of rain,
to stand tall without demanding eternity.

breathe in the beauty and strength of the trees,
endlessly renewing, shedding the old and moving on.
it is the way of the universe.
we live, we grow old, or not, and we die,
maybe we change form and shape and live again,
somehow or another
or maybe not
it doesn’t matter to me
one life is magical enough,
if i don’t waste it living in desperation and fear.

_{(c) 2020 BGeiger}