The Sour of the Now

There is no such thing as the present tense.

It is an illusion and delusion.

We mistake the present for a series of tableaux

Revealed through the sliding doors of the what was and the hope that we will be alive in a decade.

These two poles are the only true time. We are forever wedged and pulled

Between the unrealized dreams of youth and the undefined

Fate of the future. There is no Now and it has no Power.

A balloon ride over Catalonia in 1877 may have been experienced by

Only a handful but is present as we breath, our nostrils taking in the

Microscopic debris of pterodactyls and giving oxygen to 31^st century

Nieces and nephews granded to the 72^nd power.

We hear a bird, we see the milky outline of the moon in the early evening sky

And we are uncertain, unwilling to commit to whether this is reality or the dance

Of history and fate. Any lie, told carefully over time, will erase all that

Came before it and become reality.