I have a terminal disease
I do not know how many seconds I have left.
At present that is unpredictable.
I used to think I had millions –
Plenty to squander.
Now I know it could be dozens
But I am hoping for hundreds of thousands.
The universe will cease to exist.
I mean to make the most
Of my remaining seconds.
Every day the seconds run down
Like grains of sand
In a huge egg-timer.
There are many more grains in the bottom than the top.
That makes every single one
A little sweeter.
Opher – 8.5.2020