You Number Our Days
You number our days, not we.
You declare the end, Lord,
As well as the beginning,
And after three strikes, it’s over.
No second chance; no “do over”!
Got to get it right the first time around;
No second chance to be found.
Press on! Got to live it right out,
Greeting each day with a welcome shout.
(Nobody does it like I,
Called by the Maker of the sky.)
He made us to know what He does;
No need to whine and put up a fuss.
Each one has his own calling;
By Him we keep from falling.
Onward, then, to the bloody end.
“Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!”
So it was said by that navy man.
Keep up the spirit; press on, my friend.
A.m., 7 July, 2021
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