Today

is just reality,
the only one we know,
at once, forever good and bad.
Yesterday, tomorrow don't exist
and expectation doesn't mean a thing.
You cannot find them anywhere,
and you are not alone.  In fact
I am afraid you too, do not exist,
although I thought you did.  Alas,
I cannot bring you back; it seems
you only knew for just that hoary
old split second, (gone among the ages)
how to occupy my consciousness.

It's pretty silly, isn't it,
this game we play with time,
though accurate enough.  We never
seem to get it figured out,
and blindly stumble on our way,
manufacturing the seconds as we go--
looking at them (sometimes) through
our fingers as they fall; then vanishing
forever.

A man just has to fudge to celebrate a life--
or anything at all.  Heroics fade,
and histrionics too, along with saints
and evil-doers smashing heads, and even
disillusioning the pretty girls
behind their neighbor's gate.
And then, as if there weren't
enough confusion, there they go,
those ghostly seconds chopping off
our time to meditate--but that
is merely our intent, and like experience
just another chimera; and that of course,
so lacking substance that it cannot
see light of day.

My God!  Like me?
     ~

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

One question: In the first line did you mean reality or realty?

[Dean]

reality, of course---thanks to your sharp eye! :-)

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank goodness your poetry is still here! I was petrified to hear that people's poetry had just disappeared.

As for this particular poem, your voice while questioning, is matter-of-fact; and while questioning, is still accepting at the same time.

Time is the structure we try to hold on to, while it constantly slips through our fingers.

[Dean]

yes, it all re-appeared, including some others I am told about

[Marie]

I know time is a delusion; it doesn't exit in nature. But I need it perimeters.

[Dean]

Yes, we all need it, to organize our lives, but the question is still fascinating, is it not?