Someone asked me what I do in my spare time recently and, for whatever the reason, the phrase struck me as odd for the first time.
How, as humans, have we made it so habitual to spare something so sparse?
We never seem to have enough of it, yet we’re always dawdling the spare time we do have on trivial matters such as tweets and petty celebrity gossip. If we were smart, we’d use every single minute we were given in this unpredictable, unguaranteed existence, and make sure we never had a second of time to spare.
Because when death comes, he won’t hold the phone and wait for you to call someone.
When your time is up you can’t dip into your store of saved time and use some of your rollover minutes. There’s no loophole or shortcut. You’re just gone.
That’s why I plan to make the most of each second:
(Completed in the purchased version of "Herban Poetry")
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Herban Poetry
PoetryA small but ever-growing collection of original poetry from the mind of a 19 year old pothead. This is home to a large range of thoughts, feelings, and ideas that cloud my head in poetry form.
