It is this moment,
this fleeting.
this ephemeral
bit of rushing time.
That is it,
clear,
immediate,
particular
now.
On its way
among the relics and
graveyard of the past
to be contemplated in some
future nowness or
simply forgotten.
I live in the moment,
by the second,
not subject to conjecture,
immune to elaborate planning or
introspection.
Future time
may not be mine,
these molecular bits
could be finally heading
to the realm
where Chaos abides,
my ultimate destiny.
It is this moment,
this glancing tribute
to existence,
to certainty,
the rest is speculation.
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