The Moment

The moment has no pretense

It’s here and holds no suspense

There isn’t any loss or gain

The moment’s simple and plain

From the moment, we depart

Hoping the future’s a new start

We carry with us nothing

Yet burdens hug us like clothing

The moment, it is no fresher

When senses are enmeshed

When the moment’s cooked with the past

Its value is immediately slashed

The moment, it’s impossible to keep

It doesn’t age well when stored in a heap

It comes to us at no expense

But we will have to put aside pretense