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 31st century
Nieces and nephews granded to the 72nd 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.