what is this?

I ask myself,

as i read over the writings from none too long ago.

but while it feels a century,

it is also, merely a day.

Opposing colors,

in the same swirl of paint,

eternally unmixed to their capacity.

Rubbing up against different parts of each other,

Never to commingle entirely.

Things have changed, though.

So much of everything, as a whole,

past, present, and future…

…is different now.

Changing, and changing, and changing…

I know the motion is toward the forward,

but i keep looking back,

double taking…

Is that the thing i think it is?

Whats happened to it?

Has it been that long?

Is iut really so far?


Yes, it certainly is.

And so I march.




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