There was a time when forever
seemed that way; now, the edges
are frayed on that seamless robe.
Tomorrow does not stretch out
so far – the “w” is more distinct.
It is harvest time in the heart,
the winnowing of what matters
separated from the chaff
of why-bother-anymore.
The thing about kaleidoscopes
people remember is the
change each turn creates forgetting
the brilliance of the pieces
which never changes at all.
I have not seen the footprint
of eternity only the frayed
edges of that robe, that shadow
almost translucent.
-Byron Hoot
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