On the east edge of now, the sun rises
against a somber dawn of fading grays.
In that new light of morning, awaken,
and shake the sleep of apathy away.
What time exists is in this moment, here.
It cannot be extended or exchanged
in some transaction seeming more auspicious
or played to some advantage yet unseen.
Let loose your eyes and ears! Enjoy this instant!
There is no opportunity to come.
Let memory defend itself this evening –
the morning’s hay is made in daylight hours.
What use some future state that never comes,
or dusty, faded memories grown old,
their polished surface worn from excess handling?
The bird is in the bush, never the hand.
Let loose your tongue and find a better song,
one free from someone else’s maudlin words!
There is a song that only you can sing.
If you don’t start it now, no one else will.
11 AUG 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
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