Page 18 - X Commandementsfor Unbelievers

Life

moves in loops

— work, rush, repeat — until days start

to sound the same. This poem taps into that rhythm,
beating like a drumline of time itself: Tuba-Tuba-

Tuba, Rhyme-Rhyme-Rhyme.
It turns minutes into
music, showing how fast they jingle by, h

ow easily whole seasons vanish
without notice.

But

beneath the humor
and sound, it asks something serious:

When do we stop to think?
The “Sabbath” here isn’t
about religion — it’s a pause, a metaphor for the

rare moment we step back, breathe,
and look at where we’re

really going.

The poem

reminds us that

reflection is not wasted time

— it’s what keeps our life from slipping into

automatic motion. Because without those pauses
to think and stare, even a full

Life can pass by

unheard.

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