For the Present
The past, a river bed loose beneath the
present. It shifts in murk upon the shore
of moments current, leaving behind a
memory silt difficult to ignore.
The future, a river mouth that opens
out to a feared hopeful sea of promise,
where ever present tomorrow omens
the past from becoming bitter solace.
The present, an artless river depthless
and ever yearning. It forever flows
with joy of an in the moment caress,
no matter what past and future suppose.
Since past is past and the future unknown,
I choose to make the present my touchstone.