It could be the start,
it could be the middle,
it could be near the end,
but one day it will be the end,
and as long as you are here,
watching, supporting, holding,
caressing, loving, listening,
understanding, reflecting, beginning,
then it could be the now,
that one moment that falls through
all fingers, all grasp,
forever flowing like our rivers
into one large pool,
never to be held but only ever
seen from memory.
The future is coming,
the future will always thunder,
be that moment we rush
through, never held,
never experienced,
a spot on ruler passed through,
behind us,
ready for the next,
and what have we done?
What have we to say?
When all these fractions
minus the denominator
leave us hollow,
what can we say?
How did we get here?
What manner of vehicle
carried us, bright eyed with
all the energy of our youth,
to this aged waters,
cliff face cracked when stones
rumble to crags,
we are waiting for the siren.