Time
Time
Tomorrow is but a short, twenty fours from today.
Yet tomorrow never comes, it becomes history,
as soon as the moment passes, it lived and died,
all it could become, gone in the blink of an eye.
We stand on the razors edge and wonder ?,
what ?, laid in the sliver of light of that moment.
Souls coming souls going ?, de-ja-vu ?, psychic sight ?,
precognition ?, clairvoyance ?, meeting oneself in a mirror ?.
B. J. “A” 2
April 8th 2004
Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2014
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