If there is only the now, whatever
the future, the past, it is
here and now, waiting, and set.
Yet our lives each appear to be
on a curve, the future a projection,
the past a record, here and now.
The volume and extent of our world
in real imagery, degrees
of freedom, is here and now.
Seated in this chair, I am the same
as someone driving miles
and miles, in the here and now.
I am in the same moment as
the oldest man, the babe in arms,
we blink in the here and now.
Life, death, the after-life,
what are these but captions
in the here and now?