I’ll miss these snapshot moments when they’re gone,<br />Though now they seem too much too fast,<br />The blur of greenery, trees tripping over trees,<br />The rush of open hills, the rise and fall of fields<br />As each breath pours into the past.<br /><br />All this streams through the ghostly shadow on the window,<br />Bursting the outline of my soul,<br />I struggle to maintain some semblance of identity,<br />Trying to imagine eternity, as I travel home:<br /> [i]Time exploded like a rubber band stretched too far,<br /> The world squashed into a match-head,<br /> The sky folded in its smoke,<br /> I’m an old man hunched over in a crowded bar,<br /> I’m a baby crying for my mother’s milk.[/i]<br />All these memories collapsed into the moment of my reflection on the glass,<br />Suspended in the moment of transition between the future and the past.
