We are counseled to live in the moment,
and so it should be. Moments do not return,
and thus, the world must be imagined
from our gathering of moments,
lest we question that it is;
much as the atoms of francium
(an element recently explained to me)
are material but so soon immaterial,
disappearing at the moment of their birth,
and then utterly gone. Forever,
just as falling leaves or rain drops,
beams of sunlight through a window,
things we can only remember--
poignantly-- like those romances
of our fifteenth spring or summer,
which, naively, we thought eternal.
