Yesterday
Yesterday
Grows longer/
Tomorrow grows shorter
With each breath--
Each tale we create
About ourselves
Becomes old news
After one telling.
We ascend to the top
Of the hourglass
With each grain of sand:
And then
The journey ends,
And we return
On angels’ wings
With the knowledge
We’ve acquired.
We, the doves,
Returning to the ark,
Announcing dry land.
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