Categories
Poetry

Time

The past is gone, the future’s here;
As I live this moment, another seems to appear.
Time is like the waters flowing downstream,
We drink only a portion of it at a time.

We don’t dwell in the waters that flow further down;
We do not dwell in the waters that approach us.
We focus on the water that can be cupped by our hands
As that is what that quenches thirst.

Why then do we dwell in our past?
Why are we anxious about our future?
When we know that the present will matter the most,
Why do we let go of our grasp?

By ishansavio

Analytics Consultant, Musician, Photographer, Personal Blogger

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