It's not time
I count
it's the moment
and I
interfacing

none is there
to watch
or judge
me beside

the pulse
of the now
the fibre
of being

the test
of living
the air
I'm breathing

the thoughts
brewing
the will
in harnessing

the tension
unfolding
the wit
in pitting

the insight
awakening
the path
for charting

the clay
for moulding
the anvil
for beating

all in all
the becoming
in what
I am giving

frail though I am
in the enocuntering
knowing yet
I might be stumbling

but steps of the past
I would not be retracing
to what's before me I must
attend--there would be no regretting.