For some, the moments pass and they are gone,
lost in some unending chasm of space
that leaves only frail wisps that linger on
in memories that fleetingly can be traced,
and the ever-arching line of past days
stretches beyond the grasp in a dull mist;
many seek in vain along hopeless ways
to recapture a brief second of bliss.
But I, at my best, am like a river:
traveling at the speed of now, ever on,
knowing each minute eternally here;
and along some bright thread, all time quivers,
and its intervals form an endless song
with overtones that do not disappear.
12 JAN 2003
