I drank it deep
Sucked the juicy marrow
Rode the waves in the cold current
Dunked my soul in heaven’s fire
I’ve also slept through my calling
Pacified by screens and sensory hopes
Of God in a bottle or scene
Wasted whole days, how many do I have left?
It’s a crossroads, a cosmic utensil
Every year a sacred “selah”
You exist until you don’t
So toast to another lap around the sun
Because another is not a guarantee
What will the next 5 be like?
Will there be 10?
Will I see my kids get married
Will there be another world war?
The fermented barley in my glass
Aids my existential musing
So I swirl and sip
And it gives me permission to pursue
All the grief and joy still in utero
The potentials of this life
Birthdays fall short
Always let you down
But maybe that’s the point
Expectations keep me from seeing that
All is grace