Tilling

If I could just reach into the past

I would make a present

Of my future:

We live, we think

Not then, or tomorrow,

But in a constantly-moving, eternal now-

Moment broken when noticed-

Chased-

Named.

‘Be melting snow’ says Rumi,

‘Wash yourself of yourself’.

Pomegranate seeds, our essence,

Sweeten the arid ground

Readying the rough dirt;

Hope.