Carpe diem! The eternal words
Of a Dead Poets Society.

Present, is the moment
When the aura of tomorrow
Seduces an action, and the past
Is left lurking, in the conclusion
Of the absence of renewal
Of lapsed time. And the present
Is best designed, when you least anticipate it
And the future creeps unnoticed
And makes a little incursion, a prelude of sorts.
– The foretaste of a kiss, the foreplay to love
Foreigners that become familiar,
The forensic that blooms avalanches,
And landslides that drown
An inch of melancholy.

When what time encloses in a moment
Is freed from time’s embrace
Famished history is fed with the future,
Through the always insatiable lips
Of a black hole.


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