Making Time

“When will it end?!?” he shouted to himself.

But that night…

There was no one to hear
His exclamation,
And give him sympathy.

The cat heard him…
Or so he thought,
But she merely shrugged,
Indifferent to his anguish.

His day had started at 415am,
As it always did,
And from that moment,
Only picked up speed…
And put on stress.

But he fought through that difficult day,
Knowing with certainty that nothing
Could stop time…
And in doing so,
Provide a bridge from his
Professional life…
To his real life.

But there was no end,
And no rest,
When he finally made it home.

Endless chores,
Ate at the few precious moments,
Of his dwindling awake life.

And in doing so,
Added yet another layer of stress
To the end of his day.

Anger…at this point,
Began fueling his mind,
And his emotions.

Every reason,
Every circumstance,
That debited from his small
Balance of daily freedom,
Frustrated him all the more.

It wasn’t until well past 7pm,
When he finally made it to his front step,
To sit down,
And relax, just a little.

Sunset gone, he could have turned on
The front lights…
But wanted nothing of it.

He wanted darkness,
And depth of the new night,
To swallow him.

This oasis,
He hoped,
Would offer him more than rest,
And longed-for peace.

And it did.

Despite his problems and pain,
The cutting light of truth,
Burned in the darkness of this
New night, and
Reminded him of…

The frailness of aging parents,
Whose few remaining days now assumed,
Pricelessness.

He was reminded of the sudden,
And wholly unexpected death,
Of an office colleague,
Undergoing “routine” surgery.

He was reminded of his own
Limitless shortcomings,
And how,
He was no better,
Nor worse,
Than any other…
Just trying to live their lives.

So there,
In the darkness of the deepening
Night sky…

He sat,

And thought,

And accepted,
Completely,
What was really important.

And that was…

No day of life is guaranteed,
But rather,
Each offers a pure moment,
To savor.

His challenges now in perspective,
He realized that

He needed to make time…

For,

And focusing on,

What was really important.

And that,
Unquestionably was

His love…

His muse…

His wife…

His very life.

Nothing else really mattered.

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.