"...for it is soon cut off, and we fly away."
To paraphrase, there is more to life
than increasing its longevity
Living longer
guarantees no more life
A permanent truth
If all is temporary, a life that lasts but a moment
in the spiritual schemes of the living
in the public library
on a Sabbath afternoon
as the whole world shops
may in the long run
prove to be worthwhile
What's it to be, then?
The old three score and ten
Biblical fashion
or a couple of dozen years slapped on top
for good measurement, guv'nor/ madam?
Is it two years shy of 60
Is it two years shy of 60
as an Eastern Glaswegian
an inward refugee?
Forty three,
as an Afghan amputee?
Move to the country write unreadable poetry
and die at a respectable 93?
and die at a respectable 93?
Or 114.9 years of solitude, on a diet of seaweed,
minimalist architecture and reiki?
There must be
more to life
than simply
stretching
it
out...
やっと
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