Holy are the days of boredom.
Holy are the days of loneliness.
Holy are the days of pain.

Pick a place to die and be content.

Life divided by time,
where time is the unknown,
always equals death.

Forget this fatal equation.

Weave the threads of memory
into tapestries of ritual;
rituals engender meaning.

Refuse to live an amputated life.

Remember that only joy slows the ticking clock.

Holy are the days that remain.
  mce