Tent Pegs

Is “yesterday” just an illegitimate construct that we apply at our convenience to the calcified remains of our aggregated past? Stubs of history that we use as tent pegs to support the waterproof shelter that we hope will shield us from the heat and storms of “tomorrow”?

Does the unbroken continuum of time lend itself to being sliced at will into portions we can comprehend and consume, topped with wedges of stone fruit we conjure in our present.

Should we, you and I, as indestructible fourteen billion year old stardust, pausing for breath in ever expanding space…should we really measure our journey in terms of time?

black wings took flight
before the dawn
of the first morning

For Dverse Poets where Bjorn quotes Khalil Gibran:”Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream”