-- When the Time Comes --

John Herlihy

When the time comes,

We are born into the world.

Fashioned by the Hand of God,

A soul into a body hurled.

Tabula rasa, a clean slate,

A life to live, meagre and great.

When the time comes,

We become what we are.

Fashioned by deeds we have done,

A soul reaching for a star.

As a puzzle being assembled,

A beating heart meekly trembled.

When the time comes,

We are what we are not.

The accumulation of vast sums,

Yet all tied up into a knot.

The mind and heart in a lie,

With our own true selves, we vie.

When the time comes, we know,

We are what we are.

We feel ourselves to be so,

The road travelled far.

All false pretensions swept away,

The future no longer willing to stay.

When the time comes, we will see,

The veils lifted from everything.

To greet the person who is me,

The bell will toll, so let it ring.

A life lived that we savor,

The opened door doesn’t waver.

When the time comes, solo,

In flight as with the birds.

My thoughtless mind aglow,

No further use for words.

As light as a feather, weightless,

As sunlight on heather, limitless.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 29 July 2021