I’m not here for a long time.
I’ve never seen myself growing old and if manifestation holds true like it has all my life, the reaper will come and claim me before I have too many grays sprouting from my head.
I’ve told myself I’d bite the dust young for a while now. In part because I’m a deranged romantic that believes there’s a beauty in going out while still climbing the mountain. But, mostly because it provides me with a sense of urgency.
I don’t have all the time in the world to change the world (or at the very least the little bit of world around me), so I better bite bullets, swallow fire, pull no punches and sling ink like each word is adding a few more ounces of sand to my hourglass.
I better play it big every goddamn second of every goddamn day. I better play it big or die trying. I sure would love to die trying, to die a warrior-poets death. Mid-sentence, no period and with a thought left unfinished.
By Cole Schafer.
One day these one minute writings will be a big book called “One Minute, Please.” Can I let you know when that day comes? You can say yes, here.