Time For Sale

It is the distance that wears on you.
Not miles. Time.
So much of it behind. So little ahead,
making what is left more precious,
leading you to danger
of trying to do, too fast, neglecting
the nothingness that allows the rest
that keeps you, not just alive,
but flourishing. Not just a commodity,
but a life.

About this poem

About demands on our lives, and having the wisdom to say “no” when the natural inclination (or at least mine), is to say “I could do that?”. Spawned by a request to do something that arrived in my email this morning, and the picture above (which was taken in an antique shop in Roanoke, Va.

One of my favorite, “I say it ad nauseam” sayings is “Everything is a tradeoff.” That includes time.

Tom