Most of Dying’s Healthy Living

There are something like
Sixty-three million
Sensible moments,

Half-seconds roughly,
To experience
In every orbit

The iron-cored Earth
Turns around its star.
Sixty-three million.

Even if you lived
Deeply in each one,
What animal mind

Could memorize those,
Even for one year,
Never mind sixty,

Seventy, eighty,
Whatever you live?
Come on, admit it,

You have to have been
Asleep or absent,
Deceased in some sense,

For much of your life,
And most of your life
That you have sensed left

Long before you ceased
To sense more moments,
Like this moment now

Which you’ll probably
Miss or be dead to
Before the year’s done.