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Poem

What compares to the present?
The present is like a needle
Time threading through its eye
A needle on a phonograph
My record is now on the B side
Still, I can't listen to the present

The future is encrypted
A symphony heard as conspiracy
The past nostalgically stained
I search for the exquisite
The elusive present ever pure
The past is a sweaty t-shirt left behind

Time is a tall drink of glass
Ever replenished on repeat
What is full will be emptied
Time is a shirt forever laundered
The cherished stains washed
Only to be cleansed of your sweat

I'm apart from you now wondering
If I stay present could I be with you
Be the needle whatever record may play
Be the laundromat to any stain
The praxis of now seems futile
The future conspires against me

On the B side how old I've become
The present is not immaculate
The present is not kind
It ages just like me
Even needles will dull
Even washing machines break

This past is vinyl to MP4
New generations care not for the old
The future is not ours to hold
My present is a past for the young
My mistakes are fodder for seedlings
The young will also be compost

I shouldn't think futile thoughts
Wait for younger philosophers to fail
Just like me and generations before
We search for the exquisite present
Ever elusive and requisite present 
For us to find love in the present

When the record is done
When the needle lifts 
I'll be tucked in my birthday jacket
When my stained shirt is washed
Bleached and bone white
I'll be put on the shelf

The present like love is perfect
The search is ever futile 
The record and shirt gathering dust
After a thousand years or more
Only God will cherish
Specks of dust

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