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There Is No Substitute For The Now
he is choosing NOW
he will not exchange it for something else
he is gripping it like a wrench
it IS.
BECAUSE he is tired of promises
most of them turn out to be empty shells
chicken eggs without yolks
yellows have become mere illusions
he goes for NOW.
IT is what he can hold, he feels it
and seemingly
it cannot be taken away from him
until it is taken
until he gives it after he held it
for the moment
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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