Making Memories

In the morning

and in night’s black,

we stay the same

in all life’s little acts.

We are the extras;

actors on a stage.

Inquire I the future,

like a studious sage.

I plot my course

for the way to it now.

Though butterfly wings

bring futures down.

Calculate the venture

in accordance with time.

I seek truths forgotten

while the earth’s maligned.

The clock is constant

it will not bend for me.

The future is never

where I want it to be.

I’ll set stage lights,

let the show resume.

In the end the lights

reveal a heart consumed.

Consumed with desire

to make a mark on time.

Making memories to

hold something divine.

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