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If life be a succession of our acts,
it is as moments played out in these acts,
and gathered into one momentous, in
the true sense, act, a moment in duration
in the perspective of lives lived, now gone,
enacted; though the summers have not been
stretched - can you stretch a moment? - linger still,
accommodate the crowded seasonal
events, a games, the thousand images
ironically saved from the ravages
of passage in an album; slowly dwindle -
even as a cat sleeps; but you never will
change heart, but view the present big as all
creation; forever in each moment stall.
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