Friday, November 1, 2019

Poetic Asides Tomorrow 3


Wondering

I sit on a bridge
breathing in fresh air.
The water gurgles past
carrying a leaf
whirling and swirling.

And I think about moments
passing by in a similar way
rushing, swishing by.
And I wonder,
what is real?

The moment past?
The moment present?
Or the ones to come?
Is this a real world
or just an image?

Someday it will be over.
Is that when we meet true reality?



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