Then? When? Now? It’s Just a Matter of Time

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Then? When? Now? It’s Just a Matter of Time

By Jane Tawel

March 9, 2023

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No one knows what happens.

Don’t believe them when they say they do.

They tell you there’s a Heaven out there

and so, we stop focusing;

our eyes grow bleary with the hopelessness,

of bringing Heaven to earth now.

There can be no fear if we admit

we simply never know enough.

Never enough — 

not then, not now, not whenever.

I hope to hope

mostly from now on,

to hope in what I can not know.

Let’s live in hope,

that all who seek might find,

and all might have and be at home,

here and now.

*

And no one knows the Truth

of what once happened

long ago or yesterday.

Your truth can never be mine,

nor mine yours,

but therein lies peace.

We all have inner-inter-interpretations;

and the impressions left on hearts and minds

run deeper than a chasm of doubt,

run deeper than any one can dig us out of,

run deeper than a mother’s love,

run deeper than a child’s dreams,

run deeper than a hope unborn.

The ruts are deep

and mine are mine to mine

and yours are yours to rest in if you choose.

All of us should stand ready,

above the ruts we’ve worn,

and hold out hands

to lift another up,

or perhaps just to see

if arms are really wings

and we can fly.

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I tried to write a final verse

about living in the moment,

but instead I went out to lie in the green field,

and there I played with a blade of grass.

And I thought no more of yesterday.

And I thought no more of tomorrow.

And I thought no more of you or me.

And I thought no more,

but rested there,

and played a little with a blade of grass,

and hummed a small and meaningless tune.

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Then? When? Now?

It’s just a matter of Time.

I have so much to un-accomplish,

and so little else to say.

Time is short, contracting in upon itself.

Only what we love will last.

Come be with me,

until our time has passed.

And of yesterday,

we will remember only love.

And as for tomorrow,

we will need know nothing,

only Love.

And as for now — 

Come, let us laugh,

and play with blades of grass.

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© Jane Tawel, 2023