Deep into sunset now, the dawn
too many years behind.
The dark night waits,
lingering behind the evening star.
It was noon a mere moment ago,
brightly shining with hope,
plans made with future surety,
more time than dreams to fill it.
Time spent seems but trumpery
when placed beside time remaining,
too much wastage, squandered
could haves, elusive promises.
Living in the past yields little that is good,
mostly excuses, redrafted memories and
rust-pitted trophies.
Future has a sense of promise, of mission,
too many maybe’s as well.
What’s left is now, today, this moment,
sunset, dawn and dark of night the same
gift of opportunity, like a poem, somewhere
between a dream and a nightmare.
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