Inside You
The past is still. The past is always past.
It lurks, the only absolute. Today
Cannot be guaranteed. It may not last,
At least for you and me. Destiny’s sway
Might sweep it into nothingness. A blink
Of fate’s tart eye, a wink of poison would
Turn now, today, to something worse than stink,
The ghost of stench. Life is misunderstood
By anyone who hopes tomorrow’s sure.
Tomorrow’s even more uncertain than
This moment. Only long lost pasts are pure.
The past’s the only twelve-foundations span.
There’s no street plan of gold for tomorrow.
The closest fact to that is God’s sorrow.