As a child I thought of eternity as endless,
days and months and years and centuries,
then millennia and billions and trillions
of boring, boring years-- what would I do
with all the time in the Universe...?
But as an old man I know time is a big liar,
itself unreal, an illusion born of sweat, fear,
the loneliness of spirit in a material world.
I see now eternity is always here, next to us,
within us, the moment none can grasp nor
measure nor repeat, the endless moment,
that indistinguishable point between past
and future, between what was, what will be--
the soul's singularity, its alpha and omega.
And all our fears of extinction
are like wasted breath,
for we are real and time
WE are the eternal moments.
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Like many of my poems, this comes from the realization I've had for 1/2 a century that the soul is not just a dream or fantasy, but a reality far beyond what our senses define as 'reality'.