Only sixty seconds in it.
Forced upon me, can’t refuse it.
Didn’t seek it, didn’t choose it.
But it’s up to me
to use it.
I must suffer if I lose it.
Give account if I abuse it.
Just a tiny little minute,
but eternity is in it.
The recent unfortunate passing of a much-loved and admired American politician, Elijah Cummings, reminded us of the poem by Dr. Benjamin E. Mays that Cummings so gallantly once read on the Congress floor.
The words resonate more than ever. Time can be relative. And even when some minutes feel long, the unstoppable hours and years slip through our fingers quickly like sand. While most days consist of pretending we're not mere flecks dancing on a speck in a universe vast beyond understanding, we've been granted a few empty minutes to do with as we please. I have great respect for these "little" minutes, although I'm not sure I fill them wisely. If you fill each one well and pile enough of them together, sandcastles are built, insurmountable odds overcome and boundaries brightened.
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