I write the last line
to finish the poem
which now, right this second
has already become
part of my past
the present lasts less
than the blink of an eye
I am already older now
then I was when I
finished writing
the words still linger
in my consciousness
but my mind is already
busy with other things
thinking of the future
I edit what I have written
the present interfering with
and changing the past
but only I will remember
what has been changed
our present is like a
still frame on a movie film
separate but connected to
the frames ahead, the future
the frames behind, the past
but in our life film all
the frames ahead are blank
to be filled only
by our present action
before becoming our past
it is up to us to
use the present
to fill the future frames
with the kind of images
we want to be remembered by