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.