Rise now,
the number of our days is upon us,
like the seismic rumble;
our world loses its certainty.
Those once granite pillars
that made such a sure foundation,
become like thin reeds,
reminiscent of straws and camels.
Suddenly,
night is upon us.
Without fair warning,
the dream succumbs to waking
and there is no turning back the clock,
no bargains to be struck,
for another hour,
another day,
another year.
Pink light cuts a brilliant line
across the horizon
and we know
that we will take that horizon soon.
To behold the great mystery
of the First Unknown.
To stare at the Sun
without burning the eyes.
To be unshackled from space and time
and no longer dreaming.
Wake to the new day dawning.
The measure of our course
is not taken by standard metrics.
Like art,
it shall never be judged
by its creator,
but instead,
remembered by those who experienced it
when it was completed.
Hitchhikers on a brief leg
of an eternal journey.
The value of time
is never in the counting
of the hours, days, years;
it is in the smiles,
comforts,
laughter.
It is cherished
and then we wake.
HG – 2016
