David Jon Foster Art
The Time Pilot
in
{ Nothing of the Now }

Fresh auburn sun and I its ghost, of days past I play the host

Waiting for, the past’s return, save the lamb, let me learn

angels brought, to me the wine, of the king, till end of mine

slowly swallow, sip and taste, earth on my tongue, the gift a waste

I remember when, how it was, beautiful, bits and pieces, still nothing of the
now…and fly back home again.
Copyright © 2007 David Jon Foster
All Rights Reserved
Precious it is, yes I know, logic dictates the same, and on occasion I can
remember.  I remember when, just how it was…, beautiful…, some small bits
and fragile pieces fall back to me,  when I, …when I,  fly.
             Flashing back I grab at them like fleeting butterflies as I stare across
the empty fields.  Starlight memories some of them caught in the moment if I
get lucky,  The wings open and close in my hand.  To feel the little ones
breath and stare up at me for a moment.                  
             Living, breathing, the end was so far away, joyful ignorance the
youthful gift and it was all still yet to be.  The mountains, green valleys of the
past and the butterfly drift away again.  For a moment I remembered. But still
nothing of the now I say, peal my eyes, and walk away, nothing of the now
that is all that is, so sad  really to waste this precious it is, to be regretted
someday im sure , I couldn’t  find the key.