I hate Shadows from the past
like faded photos
Glimpsed
through passing windows
and opened doors
while being pushed by a torrent
of time
Flotsam and Jetsam
pausing for a few moments
in the tumult
together
before being cast across the broad Horizon
in these moments
hours, days, weeks or years
spent with an other
or others
are real and easily lost
in the flood
Immortality is the goal
people far wiser than I say
yet in the end
massive man made monuments erode away
script scratched on paper and colors smeared on canvas
fade
genius electro-digital memories
corrupt
endless ancestors and descendants become bone
then stone
If one is lucky
we scratch and build
rave, rage and burn
In chase
of some ancient
philosophical ghost
in the end of our gasping struggle
we miss the moment
the real
as all there is
is
NOW