At Fourteen

At fourteen, I thought less about the future
and, unaware of Buddhism, lived in the moment.
Even a day was usually unplanned, spontaneous,
open to what the universe had planned for me.

If life is like a sonnet, the turn occurred when
the future became my focus and the present
rushed by out of control, and the past
became nostalgia, a read book fondly remembered.

At fourteen, I believed, without proof, in eternity.
The days unfolded unbidden and I was content
in thinking at some point I would be able to see

That fourteen-year-old’s future is my present,
slipping away from what I wanted it to be,
and even partially my past, now already spent.

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Droplet Moments

Water – shallow and muddy – like the present
moment. Then clear and deeper – the past,
but not so long ago. Further back,
clear and so deep, clear no longer
applies. Thick glass. Opaque memory. Droplet moments.

Image Credit: Photo by Skitterphoto. Public Domain via Pixabay

Time’s Arrow

is an arrow of increasing correlations and

one’s perception is movement from known past

to unknown future, but we find randomness

that cannot be undone on this quantum walk.

Entropy increases but all the possibilities exist.

time

And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets