Names, Numbers
We chop up time into chunks
Either named or enumerated.
Seconds and minutes
Are simply numbered.
Hours are a little strange
Mostly a rotating set of integers
Except for noon and midnight
Dawn and dusk
Morning and evening
Twilight and half light.
The days get their own names
Honoring the pagan gods of yore
But weeks are just weeks
Sorting themselves into blocks of months
Which are kind of funny too—
A mashup of names and numerals
As if Caesar ran out of things to acclaim
More than half way through
And just finished it off at the end
With a few Roman ordinals.
But then the years are back
To being just numbers
Stacking up one after another
Hash marks scratched
Into concrete prison walls
But a lifetime is your own
A first, middle, and last name
Bookended by four digit dates
Carved into a modest gravestone
Marking the place you’ll abide
For—choose a word to
Describe a Long Ass Time—
Eons, epochs, millennia,
Forever.
But eternity is only for the living
Especially for the ones who
Trace your letters
With frozen finger tips
When they visit your
Final resting place.
For them words are necessary.
Time must be bracketed.
We, on the other hand,
Wait without waiting
In this realm
Beyond names or numbers
We even resist the urge
To call it timeless
And when you arrive
You won't be too early
And you won’t be late.
Here, it’s not quite dark
Nor is it very bright
When you see me
You won’t know
Whether to say
Good morning
Or goodnight
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