Lady 1X:X3

When I’m engulfed in the
powerful silence
of moving memoirs
I recognize her as Past.
When I’m enveloped by the
intimate scale
of scattering sunbeams
I welcome her as Present.
When I’m consumed by the
abundant poverty
of crumbling civilizations
I pray to her as Promise.
From her flows what you call time:
a pageantry of paradox,
visceral yet unfathomable.