future is vast expanse of confusing
unknown romanticised nonsense

past is like the dead
we still feel it but it's not there
it fades with clown-like indecency
mocking our misfortune at it turns
and waves goodbye

present is spent in other realms
except the rare flicker
where mind and body reunite
like old friends long missed

intangible, consistent, inconsistent
nonsense is the cruel ticking of time

there is nothing we can hold
in a moment and own
It all escapes us
like helium baloons tugging
from the tiny sticky hands of
small children
floating into the blue sky
never seen again as every moon
and sunrise
although we forget