I Live a Hundred Years a Day

In rain and sun, entrapped by death, we cuss, Through pain we run for love in times of hope— The world we dance within makes dust of us, With all the light, when silver clouds elope. I've trained for this a million lives before, And every cast I've worn was blessed in stars— I may or may not have a million more, But I know I'll be proudly dressed in scars. So you can hang with all the doubt you twist, And tangle up the grit you choose to lack, While I maintain that time does not exist; Your days will all cave in when you look back. And yet I understand your need to stray— It's hard to live a hundred years a day.