Thomas Cooper Gotch |
Ode To the Present
This
moment
as smooth
as a board,
and fresh,
this hour,
this day
as clean
as an untouched
glass
--- not a single
spiderweb
from the past:
we touch
the moment
with our fingers,
we cut it
to size,
we direct
its blooming.
It's living,
it's alive:
it brings nothing
from yesterday that
can't be redeemed,
nothing from the
lost past.
This is our
creation,
it's growing
this very
instant, kicking up
sand or eating
out of our hand.
Catch it,
don't let it slip
away!
Keep it from
vanishing into dreams
or words!
Grab it,
pin it down,
make it
obey!
Make it a road
or a bell,
a kiss, a book
or a caress.
Slice into its
sweet
scent of wood,
make yourself a
chair
from it,
then weave yourself
a seat.
Try it out --
or, better,
try a ladder!
Yes,
a ladder:
rise
out of the moment
step
by step,
feet firmly
planted on the wood
of the moment.
Up and
up
but not too much --
just high enough
to
patch
the holes
in the roof.
Not too far;
you don't want to
reach heaven.
Climb up
to the apples
but not as far as
the clouds
(let
them
cruise the sky,
drifting
toward the past).
You
are
your own moment,
your own apple:
pluck it
from your apple
tree.
Hold it up
in your
hand:
it shines
like a star.
Stroke it,
sink your teeth
into it -- now off you go
whistling on your
way.
Pablo Neruda
from Odes to Opposites
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