The Irrelevant Past
Nothing is said,
The question is asked
And the Past
Has a hundred meanings,
None of them lasts
Only until I, the creator,
Become the Past...
What I am told
Has no influence on the truth,
What I believe is the matter
When no fact is plain,
Proving any more or less real,
That it really happened
The way I am always altered
And now the question remains:
What can I say?
There is no other to confer! ...
If two people see the same thing,
When one calls it Blue
And the other Yellow,
It could be either one
But who knows,
Who can clearly sees the real color?
Only time will tell
And when the truth is revealed,
It would be too late for you to know
For you have become the Past...
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
