Moment-drops

They roll in seamless waves

Across time’s formless shore

To seal in mystic graves

The echo of their roar

Hope, fear, anguish and awe

In passion-pulses weep

From future to our fingertips

To past’s unfathomed deep

Within the dead of night

They do not still their rush

And on the hinge of morning light

They shape its virgin blush

Against this obscure scope

We place desire’s fruit

Our sorrow and our hope

Both wickedness and good

Like flakes of melting snow

Its soundless storms descend

Perpetual moment-flow

Without beginning or end

We live and laugh and love

As to our lips they’re flung

Vertigo from vaults above

To glance upon our tongue

Simultaneous stream

Of future, present, past

In moment-morsels gleam

As history seals them fast

© Janet Martin