Because We're Older Now Than We Once Were
It Is Once Again Time To Pull This Piece From The Shelf;
A Poem For My Son, Jerry,
And Also: Me, You & All The Rest Of Us
Because We're Older, Today, Than We Were Two Seconds Ago
If time means any thing, it has to be defined to do so: It must be measured. The world loops around the sun and we manage to call it years; The world spins and we figure the sun will define for us day & night, hours, minutes, seconds . . . People pop out of each other, cry & kick, learn to walk & play, fight, eat, drink, love, live, die; We apply the principles of years and hours and minutes and days to 'names' we've applied to the walking-about creatures that popped out of other creatures. They can't start at zero, because that's nothing and no thing cannot become some thing. They can't start at one because that's something too much and some thing cannot come from no thing. After a year of trying to solve this riddle, they settle on "one". That's the only real dilemma, if it really matters itself; the rest of life is just easy numbers and details. After that it's easily two and three and four and five and so on-- counted while time is filled with little bits of happy this and unhappy that until death do us part -- usually far too soon and not nearly soon enough.
After a year after trying to solve this riddle, we've settled on "one". Happy "first" second third fourth birthday, Jerry
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