Sure, being timeless looks good from the outside, but it has its drawbacks, believe you me.
Sure, it’s nice to know I was as right as rain; that all my prophecies came true. That I even wrote some zingers that people remember.
It’s nice to know that I’m nearly immortal; that I made the cut; that I’m one of the twelve Minor Prophets, and a major Minor one at that. Yet, to be immortal is to be old. Not as in arthritis old but as in brain old. Too many stories repeated too many times old.
Because, you see, in addition to knowing all I’ve mentioned, I also know that it all—all I did—didn’t amount to a hill of beans. I mean, the decimation of a nation—so what’s new?
Saying a nation
Will end in war
Is like saying
A flea is looking
To suck blood.
I’m that kind of old.
I know that I didn’t manage to usher in the Day of the Lord, the Promised Land, the Kingdom of God, the Beloved Community, or what-have-you. So, what’s new? I’m that kind of immortal.
Do you know what you learn, being timeless? That things come and go. That’s what you learn. Think you know that already? Tell me about it! You know that already. I knew that even before I ever left the farm. I didn’t need to go to gay Paree to learn that one. That’s the problem with being nearly immortal.
Do you know what’s new? Keeping your mouth shut. Now that’s new! That’s unique.
You know what’s hard? Climbing out of your rut. Now that’s hard. That’s unique. Do you know how often I see those stories?
Not so much.
Now I’m timeless and I know that sort of thing, only more so! And more so is not unique. It’s tiresome, as a matter of fact.
How’s that for being right? You’re right. You’re really, really right. And what does that get you? Immortality. After a fashion. Timelessness. And what’s that? More coming and going. More stories repeated more often.
Only more so.
The next time I want more truth, I’ll volunteer for the suicide prevention line, OK?
I don’t want it. It’s not unique.
That’s the little drawback
In being timeless.