Mortal Is A Point Poem by Raymond Anyanwu

Mortal is a point, but without facet.
Perception of now is never at the moment.
No spectacle or resonance is concurrent,
Needing its own time to get to us
Moments that no moment will permit.
All moments are the prospect of our innovation.
Our mind is the contraption for our innovation
A piece for giving mortals their aspect
Constrained by what route will allow.
Discern then, that the one, perpetual at present,
Contrasting the verity-based fiction writ by us,
Upholding concurrently a candle.
Thus, is all being concurrent?
Each time mark, a remarkable discovery,
The score of activity is comparative to us,
At this point now, gone, unmoved in its element.
Please, focus your concentration to what is at present,
But as far as wits and action will permit.
Even as now still subsists, you must let,
Events and relics concurrent,
Pointing the verity, both fact-stimulated development,
Each already past the restive now,
Misplaced in its impervious facet,
A sprint of luminosity while traveling away from us.

Life does not ensue in one aspect:
Within, all is synchronized,
Perceived in the sequence of the inference of our creation,
Like profoundly touched as that which we call the present.
A lot of us feel something past the present.
Perpetuity is a lantern that scorches in us
Profound beneath the sea of our contraption,
Powerful as our thoughts permit.
Seven days the lanterns burned, concurrently
Radiance spurting from a point without measurement
Brightness simultaneous with our innovation
Outside to the one now recognized to us,
Darkness in no aspect we tolerate.