London Poem: Day 189

22 February

What life is this, blinking
In the eaten sun?
Stowed away are the indigenous
Curves that make movement easy,
But remaining lost in uncertainty
And the solemn pursuit to dodge time,
Is the urgent acceptance of the immediate.
Pushing off, the sight of what could be
Folds over what will bring life there,
Making it possible to miss the picture drawn.
Let the moment be now that set apart experience
And swallows both the past and future.

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