That Which Runs Away

That which runs away
As it draws near,
Approaches and vanishes,

A river that bends,
Rushes,
But never floods --
Time --
Will, in the end,
Gently move us
To the
Far shore
Of being.

Each day,
You are carried closer
To that shore.

The view of
Time's vast ocean --
A circle of being --
Is the same,
Until one day,
Perhaps all
In one moment,
The shore appears.

Others remain behind
While you are ferried
On
Alone.

You look back,
Forward:
It is all one,

Except in this sense:
Time
No longer moves you.

You have ridden it
All your fragile life,
To this point.

We, who waste
Everything,
Begin by wasting
Time.

The presence of mind
To love
And be present
Always

Must start
And end
Our days.

--Mr. Gobley