My Thoughts on Time
Which way is it moving, exactly?
what’s
borne our
consciousness?
choice after choice
in an ever-moving state
with the perpetual feeling
of an abstract dead weight
a glimmer of hope is revealed
but stays stagnant in the corner
hope drawing meaning from time
in the forward future, never before
with everything in life worth living for
our minds consumed by what’s yet to occur
who will save us all from the current ever-moving state?
should there not be more presence on this hope-filled earth?
give us an optimistic zeal for today’s irreplaceable present moments
in place of paralyzed nostalgia for what happened yesterday, decades ago
time; our ability to conceive the imaginary, losing touch with hard reality.
About the Creator
Keegan Roembke
I am a poet? and I didn't even know it??
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
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