I struck a match,
tried to light a candle
It was a small match
a difficult wick
My fingers were burning before the candle lit
It made me think of our lives. Broken into small matchsticks that we light each morning. A day, 24 hours, many spent sleeping. And sleep is important. Some days linger in our memory but not many. We strike, sparks flying, held aloft, incinerating, disintegrating, the charred remains falling away into the ether behind us.
We cannot buy more time. We can only spend our allotment wisely.
These thoughts swirled around my head this morning.
Protect our energy, protect our time. It makes no sense to hoard it, and in fact we cannot. Energy and time are set to burn whether we want them to or not. It is impossible to hold back the golden tide that infuses every person as the sun falls across the room and we rise to greet a new day.
Coming ready or not! Time finds us, in all of our hiding places.
Sun salutations, meditations, long thoughtful walks, ensuring that wherever possible our priorities, whatever they may be, are accomplished first, because our days on earth, are as finite as a box of matches. Do the thing that makes you doubt yourself, do the thing that has you fearful of what people may say. Live fully, breathe deeply, wear the beautiful shoes even if it is only around the house because you’re not going anywhere special today. Ahh but you are, you are going somewhere special today. You are walking through a day in your life. Just 24 hours – the match is burning – use it all the way up, until it burns your fingers and don’t blow that flame out before the last thought at night. This is your life. Your wonderful, awesome life. And we only get this one, as far as we know.
Meditations curling like incense smoke, springing from my Yoga practice this morning, they followed me out into a long walk with my dogs, a swim before it gets too hot – thought I would share.
Sending some sparks through the ether – hope they catch you like sunshine on the cheeks this morning. Perhaps enhance your own flame. Have a great 24 hours X
Header photo courtesy Devin Avery Unsplash 🌅
i like this tight little 5 line poem; I rarely read or even look at prose explanations: I like the poem to work by itself —
Thanks John, I don’t domain so much as work an idea two different ways. Poetry is how the original (and stickiest) concept comes to me but not everyone enjoys poetry 😊
true —
Thanks for sharing this poem. Anita
This is the wisdom of age. I always thought getting older would bring complex understanding and truths to light. I did not expect the wisdom to be simple, clear direction, that’s been there all along waiting for me to be ready to understand. Thank you
Oh I love this Nicolle. I seem to be simplifying as I grow older. Truths are self evident instead of buried in complexity. We complicate things so much when we are younger, now I lean always towards the simplest and therefore more peaceful solution.