Treat each new day like an endless repeat
of the last one but with a new wrinkle:
our consciousness does grow and does defeat
a timeline view of the world and its people:
Which means that our growth is cosmic, not straight
nor linear–we expand and contract;
in our minds we might feel that we are great,
and where time is unfriendly we react:
And we retract from the texts of flesh, love
to delve deep into currents of selfhood,
but a self that's divided by "push-shove"
tactics and by the beauty of driftwood:
I mean, the part of us that floats on tides
which push space up, back and expand its sides.
urbansonnets 