Take this instant

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Commercial Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
all the moments we've all wasted on utterly pointless things
which angered and stung
and wounded and hurt .
if we could gift them to someone better disposed to use them .
The giving of an instant to one wracked by pain of cancer or the desolation of depression .. just to give him one of your painless moments. None of us show out appreciation for ant time that's free pf pain, anger , envy , hurt .
Its like the day you have the toothache .. you look at all the people who dont have tooth aches and think '' how blissfully simple their lives are !!

Submitted: April 22, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 22, 2010



Take this instant !
Form me
Take it this instant
And change it if you will , from the  bleakness of dark night;
Into a flare  of  comets soaring through the firmament.

Take this  moment that I know
I do not deserve .
But know a thousand would
Dearly live it - To live in some small moment of respite
With out the excruciating fear or pain  , of ravaging disease

Take all the hours I have wasted
And hoarded , brooding on some rueful wasted thing
And live them if you can with  a wild abandon

Too well I know the poor ; the destitute of
Despair; and  their paucity of pleasures
Too many are their squandered instances .
Like me . And mine

But take this time
And use it afresh and without  the  baggage
I’ve borne down on it .
And use it,Without a backward glance

And let it be a rapturous  vibrant ,venture of delight
As in its incandescent movement as it blazes  
Through the dark ; with a searing joy across the night
Till dawn comes again by increments and phases .

Let it rage with radiance
Glow, and bring warmth where lies the frigidness  of soul
And may it bring  soothing breeze where rage and tempers flare. 
And fan the tired brow of he who toils under the beating sun

But  I feel -You too have moments just like me !
( in fact I'm Sure!)
And I hope you  lived them to the full
Each as it deserved to be;
 And don’t waver  on
Each one small crotchet ; one small  quaver
In that concerto
Before that last curtain and the final  lull.


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