Some obsess over the future,
In a panic to know what will happen.
And some obsess over the present,
Beside themselves to understand
What’s going on.
And still others obsess over the recent past,
Suffering to make sense of what
Has happened to them since they were born.
But I have not yet met a soul who can
Make good sense of it all,
Who does not also have his hands
In the antiquities―
When the world we know of was set in order
And certain principles and precepts
Were first decreed.
How stupid of us to look only
At the when of our choosing
To find only the what of our desires
While assuming that whatever we discover
Will be small enough when we find it
To slip conveniently into a pocket,
As if we were on our way out the door,
Having something more important to be doing
Than tending to the whole of the timeline
We were given.
He misses much
Who values only
What is convenient
To the mind.
