Conditioned by optimism,
we look on Time
as a forward progression.
“The march of time,”
“Here today, gone tomorrow,”
and other aphorisms
sprinkle our languages,
offering folksy wisdom
to guide our lives.
Yet as we age,
and friends, relatives, current events,
calamities, and catastrophes,
march inexorably into a past
that regresses at a logarithmic speed
away from our static present,
we are confronted daily
by Time’s ultimate paradox:
we sprinkle away our grains of time
frivolously, reflecting on yesterday,
fretting about tomorrow,
when all we need,
all that we are, and,
ultimately,
all we really have
ultimately,
all we really have
is Now.
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