The Bugle

bugle_call
The bugle blows
rise and shine
all too soon
taps will sound
another day is gone

To a child, a week is forever
but when one is old
time is without segments
days, weeks, years
swirl into an awareness
that there is no time
neither backwards
nor forwards

There is only now
but what is now?
an awareness?
a knowing?
pricking of senses?
desire, hope, fear?
joy?
Love?
blink, then nothing?

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