| Written: OCT 3, 2003 |
Time is a fiction,
An ever Present.
Past another name of Memory,
Future just another set of Dreams.
We live a life of Moments.
Only in the now Present;
Gauging our deeds.
As they are further judged,
By those never there.
Let them be dropped
In the Present of ago;
Let us visit their feelings,
How then did they stand
Up to the past?
Is it that History
Repeats itself,
Or we all Just
Acting the same?
