DIAPERS AND SHROUDS

Day after day today goes away
another day's scarcely present
they can't be measured: and what's today
is fragile fleeting and evanescent

The day born when the sun first rose
was barely alive had not even blinked
when suddenly it had to close
those eyes that had just begun to blink

When the last present passes away
and we're near journey's end the last
port before the clock's time leaves

the mind will ask if there's a way
the dead might find a kind of time
that's woven and never unweaves