The past

The past, it never happens

The mind fires empty cannons

Shuddering the song of peace

There’s a story behind each crease

Now to the past, there’s no thread

Time laughs, at a worrying head

A moment of deep inner quiet

Will quell the mind’s incessant riot

The past, a stale and heavy blanket

The mind uses it as its magnet

We cling, knowing no other

A lifeline, in the mind’s clutter

When we tire of the past

A delicious future’s broadcast

The mind is fully at peace

When we renew, each day, its lease