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Switter’s World's avatar

Time is kind of like sitting in a bathtub while it is still filling. The past is the water in the tub, our memories, and the water from the tap is now. At some point, the tub fills.

And, of course, Emily Dickinson:

Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –

The Dews drew quivering and Chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –

My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –

The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity –

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Tim Flood's avatar

Beautiful, Reena, beautiful. Thank you. I was mourning friends today. Perfect timing.

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