We will be disquieted…

Stationary…

As time rolls us along in a chair diminished of all within our care.

Time will take our pocket knifes, our car keys, phones and money, our pets, our homes, our clothes and, finally, our precious dignity.

The losses will compile. The creeping cunning will hide an advancing daily shuffle, an encroaching daily slide.

Time!

Please take your time taking our time!

All sinning, all suffering, all pain leaves us with no earthly role, leaves us with joy or fear, our untethered soul with only one more thing to get or loose—the great all or all done.

There is so much time in eternity, all we ask is a few more minutes of mortality!

Sorry, the take won’t wait.

Oh yes! Oh no! Oh I don’t know! What to where? To grave? To end? To heaven? Or just the end?

Oh time beyond, time outside of time, grant us a sure sense — approaching death cures us of indifference—to beg the question, blessed to now confess our helplessness.

Before the take, grant us all one last dance, one fleeting chance to finally know your neglected name, to cast our needless wills in flame…

and we will have lived long enough.

— Justin the Agnostic