Poetry (Day 167): Now

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    Now

 

The past is spread behind me
like a continent of incidents
and moments.
Some I recognise,
while some escaped my notice
as I marched along the highway
of my plans,
unwilling to look aside.

I sit on the edge of time,
feet dangling over the abyss
of what is yet to be
when I have only lived
half of what came before.

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