a trio of contemplations

it began at birth

I was born
I no longer
deny it

it was an act
of air
and exposure

a fact
of reflection
on the likelihood

here I am

on the act of

no other way

I was born
and there I
turned into me

it happened
and from there
to now
I am


not ephemeral

it’s only real
because it lasts
you see

what good sense
lies in a thing
that is ephemeral
before you were aware of it

before you saw it

only recognised
by the haze left
after a passing moment

that isn’t real

when you cast your mind
cast the focus of your inner eye
to see the story

how one moment
becomes another
before it fades

and as you watch
that particular of time
you somehow know
that what has happened
in the heart of you
in the endurance
of one moment
with another moment

that becomes the story
you can tell


memory of moments

is the assembler
of moments

idle things that
one on one
become a thing that happened

your story

in your moments
in a sequence
that seems something like
what happened
you’ve remembered

© Frank Prem, 2017

April 2017 Poem #17: cherishing


4 thoughts on “a trio of contemplations

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