Infinity

Infinity

If you were clasping a fistful of sand

And one year of life was offered to you,

Converted from each grain held in your hand,

How many years do you think you’d accrue?

Now imagine that each converted year

Is filled with unimaginable joy

Devoid of sadness, suffering and fear,

The time being yours to build or destroy.

Would you trade your short life of hit-and-miss

And doubtful heavenly eternity

For a million years of joyful bliss,

Before death, and then Hell’s dread certainty;

Its promise an endless desert of pain,

And all of time’s years’ worth less than one grain?