A Response to “On Time” by John Milton.
Keep flying time,
there’s nothing here to see.
Being mortal is not what
we thought it would be.
We, the hopeful children of God,
want you to be jealous of us,
but we know that you’re not,
we’re the ones who dream of the gift
that you’ve got.
The gift of yourself, we
throw away at first, time,
but near the end that
your true value shines.
If we travel on like you, time,
we’re to know our fate. Except we
die and move on, and not
something we lightly take.
The thought of eternity,
is wonderful and all,
but all we have is faith
to make that call.
Will we live on?
Or will we just end?
That glimmer of doubt
terrifies us, something
we hold true.
The thought of the unknown
makes us jealous of you.
We hope the “throne of heaven
is real, with golden-peaceful bliss.”
We hope God’s hand will take ours
with tender gracefulness.
We want to be with God,
and sit among the stars, and
break bread with the angels, but
the likelihood seems so far.
So in this we say, time,
keep flying, at least your fate
is secure, because when it comes
to ours, we’re not entirely sure.
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