- Measured, Treasured,

Reckoned, Beckoned -

-John Herlihy-

What do we think of when our life is measured in years,

Measured and possibly treasured thru our joys and tears.

Our time torn from eternity and calculated one by one,

The treasure chest of our lives at the mercy of the sun.

The decades of life mount a hill, then simply fade away,

Our 20s youth, 40s maturity, our 70s, well, time to pay.

Who’s counting? We shouldn’t think of life as a thing won,

As the darkness falls, even the sun has its day and is done.

What do we think of when our life is measured in months;

Time begins to have its limits, like the devil and his stunts.

The seasons have their moment, a few months at a time;

As the earth turns, the sun’s intensity varied by the Divine.

Spring rains nurture earth’s rebirth as it again comes alive;

Trees and flowers awaken when summer warmth will arrive.

Falling autumn leaves thrill children, but older people knew;

Winter has the final word; under a bed of snow nothing grew.

What do we think of when our days are measured in days,

The calculations of life more intense, like twilight’s rays.

We can now count our lives on one hand and possibly two,

To feel each moment as precious, a feeling I never knew.

As we see the sun’s head rise over the horizon at morning;

We know that at twilight, the closing day will be in mourning.

Still, fear not, there are many hours and seconds to cherish,

To savor each moment as it comes, before we finally perish.

What do we think of when our days are measured in hours?

Are we as fortune-tellers, limited time with magic powers?

Now our lives are calculated, but not by the beloved sun;

Instead we see the hours before us to count one by one.

Flowers will soon close their eyes in their eternal repose;

Our heads are heavy, they begin to nod, we begin to doze.

Who could have imagined our lives now reduced to hours;

Each filled with minutes, dry land drenched in rain showers.

What do we think of when our life is measured in seconds,

A calculation of limited scope, more than anyone reckons.

In the twilight years, we know for sure that twilight ends;

With little time left, there is hardly time to make amends.

Still, who has the courage to say there will be no tomorrow;

Our lives tied up at the seams, with a few days left to borrow.

 There they are, creeping along, those ancient eternal seconds;

Beating as a second heart, one by one, as eternity beckons.

What do we then think of when the mind thinks no more,

Upon the horizon, we see peace on that near distant shore.

Gone will be the worries, the fears, the concerns of this life,

All the struggles that we endured, all the unexpected strife.

Gone the beauty of being gracious, of growing and giving,

Gone the miracle of discovering ourselves, of simply living.

Who can deny at that moment, the soul will open, expand,

Cradled in the benevolence and mercy of the Divine Hand.

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(c) John Herlihy December 2018