The present is like riding a surf board;
The wave of the future touches, in a moment, and is past
The rider remains, haltered to the moments
The moments of now, of touching
To live in the present is to cast out in front
To the future
To the wave yet to be ridden
To bring it on, and yet as it touches
To still look forward
To the wave yet to be
If we falter in this
If we watch the touching moment become past
Then we wipe out
Time on the board is no more
Cut off from the creative moment, floundering, we drown
So climb on your boards
Ride the white horses of time
The journey is dangerous but my O my
You ARE alive; you ARE a co-creator of history
Shoulder to shoulder with your god
Creating in the eternal
In the infinite, moment of now
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem