walking alone ahead
uncalmed
shoved into
that darkened bag
of heavy space
thoughts squeezed nervous
by arrowed cruel command
impatient as a virus
hellbent
on what comes next
the tyranny of now
fickle existence
can flick nazi-like
through every soul
sentenced to
noble and ignoble
versions of now
where have all the nows gone?
the awareness
the everything
the stone-hearted conqueror
that is now
how does now
become now?
our memory
the museum of now but
But really what is
NOW?
and how will the future
shape now?
P.S. The photo is one I took in 1973 of a solitary figure walking on Wilton Terrace by the Grand Canal near to where I spent my childhood in Dublin, Ireland.
