I always thought my past was something real
But then it disappeared when I got hurt
My memories were dark and they’d conceal
The life I thought would never go inert
Today I feel the moments, sharp as pins
As thoughts cascade upon my life’s steep slope
I know each moment’s real as it begins
The avalanche of pain with which I cope
Tomorrow and tomorrow . . . It’s been said
My syllables are not some petty pace
Someday I may not care if I am dead
Someday I’ll plan to win some future race
The past, the present, future, all are mine
I love and hate them all as they combine.