I grit my teeth, ‘gainst the grain
My pent-up breath forestalls the pain.
For tho’ my sides split with each blow
And ribs to crack, in heart I know
That moments, fleeting, can but pass –
But each one weighs as if the last.
A spirit bends, a body breaks
When we our funeral knell mistake.
If given time and power to choose?
Who could not that gift abuse?
To wallow free of hurt and strife
Is to pluck the meaning out of life;
What then, to grasp eternity?
Such idleness and luxury;
If time unending’s what you’ve bought
Then tell the worth that each one’s got.
If infinite our pain and joy
Then life is but a child’s toy;
No sooner picked but then forgot.
Life without end? Such is your lot.
‘Tis better to to live short and well
Than rot in an eternal hell.
William Stevens on NaNoWriMo… or Less