and certainly I don't wish to offer anything other than a philosophy of the moment, a truth told only now in the instant that I hold it. Yet every word is a memory already grown old, even as it reaches the page my experience is already other than before, shifting to a reality not noted until again the world moves on. What I write is always just moments behind, lagged by thoughts of an existing, permanent experience. This moment comes only once, stretched through a lifetime of now, but always arriving to a fresh promise brought through motion. So I write of moments past, what was know and felt just before and now already let go - this moment, I write of then. Everything happens in the present. At least that's the philosophy of the moment.
~
Peace,
Eric
No comments:
Post a Comment