The edge of the moment

When I look

I see

But what is it?

What is me?

The mirror in my soul

Reflects me

The mirror in your soul

Reflects me

One is in here

One is out there

Yet whoever it is that I am

Is lost

As soon as a stone is skipped along the surface

If all I ever watch

Is the reflection

*its messy – what is real what isn’t? We don’t even know ourselves. The only hope we have is to choose the realist thing we can, in the moment.

The past is over, filtered into our memories by how we thought about it at the time – by what we perceived – and perception itself is flimsy

The future has not yet been born but you can bet it will be built, little by little on how we experience and evolve through the moment

The moment is the most precious thing we have

Don’t live as a shadow of a reflection of inner and outer perception, filters, memories of how to behave or believe

This is dogma


As close and hard as you can

To live sharply at the edge

Discerning everything

Or at least as much as possible

Question everything

But mostly yourself


Life is a more convincing and immersive dream then we can ever fathom

You have to keep going deeper

Big breaths


Into the second hand as it ticks past

Hurry up

Slow down


And see if time really is passing

Or is it just a shadow on the ground of what we think time is?

When all along

The real bird flies overhead


7 thoughts on “The edge of the moment

  1. You have such a gift writing on these important and soulful things. I am continuously blown away by your poetry.
    My favorite part:
    “Question everything
    But mostly yourself
    Constantly” 🙌

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