Time is happening all at once.

The past.
The present.
The future.

At this moment we have not been born
And we have died.

At the same time,
The past has never happened
And the future never will.

Still it drags on, moment by moment
The future becomes the present becomes the past.

The past exists only in our memories
The future only in our dreams.

And some times
I wonder, Why it is,
that I find my soul
in quotes
The lilting prose
of days long past
The musing of drummer
And loon
The careful clause of music
Over a roaring note

I wonder
Where my heart is
That I see it floating by
And feel it
Pulse with life
Only on paper

For as I walk
Down roads of wary men
I search
I grasp
And feel nothing
Feel no breath
No life
Only fear
Prickling under skin

The shame of being
‘them’
the shame of not understanding
‘them;
as they stretch out
arms grasping for a friend
a rival, a lover, a stranger
I wonder how it is
That they have the courage

I wonder how it is
That I find my soul
On paper
And over and again
In song
And watch it float by
In culture

I wonder how it is
That any person
Who knows how I feel
Who felt my shame
Has the courage
To put those words
On display