It seems impossible to live content in this moment
with the breath of yesterday on my neck,
and the breeze of tomorrow on my face.
The whispering sorrow of the past,
the raging winds of the future,
what has been and what may be,
spread out behind and before me.
I am restless and lonely,
torn between sorrow and hope.
Longing for nothing more fiercely,
than for love to throw me a rope.
