Now is not where I choose to be.
Now is where I am—
carried by the great river of time.
I am never behind,
resting upstream in the wide shallows—
or rushing through past narrows near threatening rocks.
Hints of earlier passages flutter in my conscience,
but the events are as distant as the moon’s far side.
I am only here.
I am never ahead,
where sunny skies await—
or lightning bolts and torrential rain.
From time to time I imagine
what joys or terrors lie around the next bend,
but the realities downstream are the river’s secrets.
My home is the ever flowing present.
I see that my portion of time
is rich with miracles—
the grinning face of a child,
the lined visage of an old man,
a student intense at her computer,
a policeman grim-faced at an accident,
and countless more,
distant and close at hand.
I see myself
and I see my freedom—
to think and to act;
to ruin or to build—
and from my small spot, perhaps,
to touch the lives that dwell downstream.
So I pay attention
to the splendors in my part of the flow.
Sometimes adrift, other times racing,
one time in glee, another time in sorrow,
I do not yearn for past moments
and I do not strain to see ahead.
I attend to the wonders of now—
the birthing of the new, the dying of the old,
the churning flow of life.
And, I know the shining bubble that is my life
rides the mighty channel briefly
— then is gone—
so I hold sacred my given span
of the great river of time.
This is a Poem About Life by Rod Van Abbema, spirited-thinking.comShare: by