Shouldn't The World Stop? Don't

As Mankind Grew Obsessed With Its Hours, The Sorrow Of Lost Time Became A Permanent Hole In The Human Heart. People Fretted Over Missed Chances, Over Inefficient Days; They Worried Constantly About How Long They Would Live, Because Counting Life’s Moments Had Led, Inevitably, To Counting Them Down. Soon, In Every Nation And In Every Language, Time Became The Most Precious Commodity.

You Can Feel The Whole World And Still Feel Lost In It. So Many People Are In Pain-- No Matter How Smart Or Accomplished--they Cry, They Yearn, They Hurt. But Instead Of Looking Down On Things, They Look Up, Which Is Where I Should Have Been Looking, Too. Because When The World Quiets To The Sound Of Your Own Breathing, We All Want The Same Things: Comfort, Love And A Peaceful Heart.

We're Tuesday People.

You'll Come To My Grave? To Tell Me Your Problems?" My Problems? "yes.' And You'll Give Me Answers? "i'll Give You What I Can. Don't I Always?" I Picture His Grave, On The Hill, Overlooking The Pond, Some Little Nine Foot Piece Of Earth Where They Will Place Him, Cover Him With Dirt, Put A Stone On Top. Maybe In A Few Weeks? Maybe In A Few Days? I See Myself Sitting There Alone, Arms Across My Knees, Staring Into Space. It Won't Be The Same, I Say, Not Being Able To Hear You Talk. "ah, Talk . . . " He Closes His Eyes And Smiles. "tell You What. After I'm Dead, You Talk. And I'll Listen.

There Is No Fair In Life And Death. If It Were, No Good Men Would Die Young.