Brian’sPoems

The Present

The morning comes early enough
without me making it earlier
through my haste
and an overwhelming urgency
to close the gap
between those spaces
where I am ill at ease.

There is something divine
in all aspects of anticipation.
My hope for something better
relies on the belief
there is something better.
Still whatever that is,
it seems to elude me in this moment.

The subtleties of life are enormous—
like the secrets falling from library shelves,
like the visible moisture floating through the sky,
like the obvious nature of passing time,
while we are forever mired in the present.