The 18th Day Poem by Rose Guber

If there are only 17 days left,
I can finally realize an old dream,
And make day of the night.
No rules, no clock, no raisinig in the morn, only time
To rest this soul of mine.
And all that is lft right now
Is a small clutch of days to think
of an immense cycle,
That went on for millennia,
And afforded lifetimes
to multitude generations,
And won't afford me mine.
No better way
to be cut down to size
than by the immensurable power of time.
Time which gave
And now takes away.
I can finally make day of the night,
and if I and mine
were to wake on the 18th day,
well, then,
We will start
A lifetime from sctratch
Whatever that may.