Eventide

Where now the hand I used to know?
Lost to the present, a specter will show.

It will not feel me, warm open palm;
Nor shall it steel me from imminent harm.

That was just so much from so long ago;
Yet still I will feel it, though gone even so.

Here now I sit aside Eventide,
The edge of Tomorrow and Past, the divide.

I watch as things turn, become the new Was;
Slowly but surely, as Everything does.

While Now is still Present, the Past it will go
Into the Realms of deep Evening Glow.

Memory serves what Now does not have:
Banks for safe keeping, something to salve.

Merry the widow, no more a mere slave –
Strive to be different, no need to behave.

What’s right or what’s wrong belongs, even though
Ever was such, not is; nor never was so.

The mores of Man are made up and then flung
Far out in seas, to schools for the young.

Stories are made up, wake up and go
Out near the ends, where I am, Evening Glow.

The Ins, In-betweens and Asides, beside,
Here’s where I am, where now I reside:

The banks of the Was and Will, Eventide.

©2015, Marvin Welborn
Revised 2 February 2015.

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