I want to do a thousand things
And want to do them well.
But I have time for just a few
Before I go to Hell.

I don’t know yet which few to choose;
So many to resolve.
Should I just pick and run with one,
So long as I evolve?

I’ve done that with my poem streak,
Though not so well, I guess,
For now I find it competing
Against my fling with chess.

My body wants to get in shape,
My soul into zazen,
My mind into more languages
That I can someday pen.

It’s good that poems write themselves.
I just have to make time
And show up at my writing desk
To catch the passing rhyme.

The rest I have to sequence, though;
Can’t work them all at once.
Let’s exercise and meditate,
So others stand a chance.

When soul and body are in place,
As fit as they can be,
The mind will be more productive
And have more energy.

Of course, I’ll touch the hobbies still
For daily minutes few,
Till such a time when I can bring
The effort they are due.