A Memory Follows Into Tomorrow

I watch as whispers of smoke curl up into the stratosphere then, it was as if the night seemed to yawn, a great mouth of darkness, swallowed the day another moment, was recorded and cataloged to be digested by the future but always, held in a voided past as the smoke over history thickened and night and day turned to meet, face to face and back to back I wondered why it is that so many people live in the past ?, when we are all laying over the silver hands of a timepiece, in a pocket made of moments shining up ahead is a dreamtime of ‘Could Be’s’ and it awaits, calling us all into the fall of tomorrow