I understand about sense,
I see that nothing has it.
And I’m not feigning innocence,
I concentrate on Present.
If not, I walk the path of Past,
At times it was much pleasant.
But still these memories have to pass -
They’re nothing but a feather.
They’re blown away by changing winds,
Unstable, shaky creatures,
Reminding me the flow of dreams,
Although with different features.
And when it comes to different claims
And I’m before my Future,
I see it as the doors in frames,
All hanging off the hinges.
Behind them there is Light and Dark,
Whatever I’ll be choosing.
There is no sign, there is no mark
What will be worth refusing.
And just like everyone I pray,
As thoughts are omnipresent,
That I’m not meek, I’m not a prey,
I concentrate on Present!