Poem: Old

Nothing is old;
Every day dawned fresh and new.

History
Eats mornings, eats evenings,
Chews on fragments, statistics:
Sources.

The past is as alive as the future,
The present is a pause,
A resting place.

Current cultures
Are arbitrary, conditional, constructed
From current prejudices,
Passing circumstances.

Shrapnel, love, survival;
Nothing is new.
Everything is old.

We run through city streets,
Stumble across hillsides,

Seeing our world
From forgotten points of view.

22 February 2012