With the present never so thin,
And history always fattening,
Each instant sensed already to be a lost moment,
A sensation to be already a memory’s scent,
Remembering to forget at each juncture,
Building to destroy his every structure,
Our hopelessly time-bound creature
Binds every hope to a staying Feature--
So his ears can lose the ticking-tocks
And his hands defeat the winning clocks.
Armed with the terminal speed of life's fatal slope,
He is still, endlessly impregnated with natal hope.
