there is no time to waste
dawdling with what might have been

the dishes still need stacking
the coffee to be drunk

i awoke one October morning
and put on a Blue Öyster Cult record
while i fed the plants 
and folded the socks, etc. 

it was raining
and i scribbled a poem 
quite spontaneously
on a piece of scrap paper 

it said:

may you walk 
the way of feathers,
lightly and with the wind 
at your sails

may your dreams grow tall 
and never cease 
clambering towards infinity

but most importantly,
may goodness flower in your heart
	as stars to telescopes

i showed it to everyone i met that day

and no one believed 
that the most sinister thing about this life 
is dying before you have lived