|
 Whatever has been, in my past,
is history.
Whatever will be, in my future, is mystery.
Whatever just is, in today, has reality, visibility, enjoyability,
tactility and utility.
Some events for me, are
passed
under a bridge, like
water,
never again to wash, to
stain, to be –
mostly gone, with barely
a ripple.
Others are ahead, in
fog, softly outlined,
vaporous images,
tenuous, figments of mind.
I give them shape, with a finger of fear
to feel my fate.
I create forms, with a hand of hope,
to wait for my
date. Also –
a fragrance will be
missed. A rose?
If my eyes fix on mist. At my toes.
Time uses calendars,
schedules, diaries, clocks.
Thoughts find pain – beyond the range of ticks and tocks.
When I look back, remembering,
nostalgia distracts me;
regret grieves me.
When I look forward, imagining,
dreams taunt me; worries
plague me. But –
when I look around to
touch, perhaps to laughter,
right there, between
fore and after,
I find firm actuality, a
moment I can use.
A gift taken away is
withdrawn –
it’s gone, “so
forget”.
A gift delayed is withheld –
it’s a vague “not
yet”.
But the gift I have is with me,
being still here, already
here.
And with all my light, all my might
I’ll hold and hug the present – present.
Be present to the
present. Attend to the here.
Live where it is. Bow to what’s near – and NOW!
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