I have been counting the days and nights,
23,427 so far,
no two exactly the same
just as no two snowflakes
precisely duplicate a common design pattern.
Each of those thousands of days
invested in what cannot be purchased.
Therapists call this investment in health.
Mom called it love.
Educators know it as deep listening integrity.
Evangelists praise it as goodness.
Artists and their Muses name it Beauty.
Philosophers call it truth.
Economists call it abundantly therapeutic wealth,
what cannot be purchased
but can never become over-invested.
Through thousands of high purposed days
and deep ecology drifting sifting nights
no more ready for down payment
than that first invested breath,
23,427 nights ago.
Perhaps love would prefer I stop counting.
Not counting the cost
at least sounds like a more generous investment in life.