Some Other Time

Yours is No Disgrace

Yours Is No Disgrace

The dreams forgotten. The ones slid away into ether. Ones o’erwritten, fodder of another plunge, the deep end, a swim into the nightscape vistas, vision despite the plethora of sleep recorded and daylight’s cue to begin.

No matter. The rest is all that mattered. You only have so many lives to live in this one life you lived. You cannot expect it all to be done.

Now, today, it’s a question of What to do? and a charge begging some righteous “In order to be fulfilled and fulfilling, successful in your industrious pursuits: progress; motion; motion as progress must be attained.” Instead you choose rapprochement, to squelch and subdue, to hew closer to where you lay in the first breaths and the effort to take.

Cure the Demons. Endure The Battles. Ensure the Peace.

Perhaps it already had been chosen for you.

Take the foot off the pedal before any temptations to accelerate. Don’t even put much less turn the keys in the ignition.

Yesterday, a morning came. A smile upon my face. Caesar’s Palace. Morning Glory. See the human, silly humna, silly human race.
On a sailing ship to nowhere, leaving any place.
If the Summer changed to Winter, Yours is no disgrace.
-Bruford, Squire, Anderson, Howe, Kaye

Do you need to go? Let go? Depart or remain. If you fight to live another day. If you decide another breath to take. No matter what you choose. Yours is no disgrace.

It is Winter. Your Winter and soon you will turn to Spring, to a Paradise where you will not dwell in this time nor this space but rather an Endless Summer Place, one of green pasture and light and rest and hope. One of Grace.

Where has all the time gone to. Haven’t done half of the things we want to. Oh, well. We’ll catch up some other time.
This day was just a token. Too many words are still unspoken.
Oh, well. We’ll catch up some other time.
Just when the fun was starting comes the time for parting. But let’s be glad for what we’ve had and worlds to come.
There’s so much more embracing still to be done but time is racing.

Oh, well. We’ll catch up some other time.

-Green, Comden, Bernstein

Too many words are still unspoken. Silly, ain’t it? Isn’t that always the case. Our silly human race? Oh, well. We’ll catch up some other time, some other space. You know it.