One Nice Day

waves smashed on
the eastern shore,

for years i can't count
even in my imagination.

as hard as rocks,
incessant waves will
wear eventually,

until such rocks
are worn down to
sharp black sand.

friday today,
and the sun is up,
over the mountain,

shining down
on our morning.
spring leaves on 
a manitoba maple.

we dream of days
as beautiful,

and mark time
in minutes, weeks
and years.

the waves and rocks
do not understand or know 
the time that passes.

we can only see a
certain scale,
all else vanishes.

one hundred million 
years ago,
we were nothing,
not even yet possible.

yet here we are,
possible in the present.

we can look back,
but not go there,
at least not yet.

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