You sit at the table in the dim light at the border of dawn with your past looking back at you.You reach out but your past withdraws.
"You cannot touch me," it says, "I am always out of reach."
You take back your hand and sit facing your past. You ask why it is here.
"I am always with you," your past says. It gets up and walks around behind you; you turn your head but your past moves to the corner of your eye — a shadow glimpsed, always elusive. You sense its presence behind you, growing older moment by moment. When you look back across the table your future sits there with its back to you.
You cannot see its face.
Photos and original text © 2010 Pete McGregor
16 comments:
Beautifully said.
Thanks Maureen :^)
i had to read this twice.
brief and very much to the point.
somehow you have captured something of their essence in your words, and left me longing for just a tiny glimpse...
But you know it's smirking at you.
Leonie, thanks. I guess it's a bit like a photo, but I don't know how it could possibly be photographed. Maybe a few words are sometimes worth thousands of pictures.
Zhoen, I think that's a reasonable assumption! ;^D
Kia ora Pete,
I read this as I convalesce. So often I think back to places and how it was, and then to the future and how it might be. Your words capture that current state for me very well.
Cheers,
Robb
always a pleasure to read your writing pete - you have a great "voice". I always think that good prose should read effortlessly - like listening to a good piece of music and yours is like that
I enjoyed your sensitive writing and I enjoy aging, or lets say maturing like a fine Red.
Bob
Thank you Robb, and very best wishes for a speedy and thorough convalescence :^)
Hungry pixie, thanks — that's a great compliment and excellent encouragement. Much appreciated.
Bob, thanks. That's a great way of looking at the future ;^)
You can see the past, but you can't change it; you can't see the future, but you can change it.
Nicely put, Bob. Thanks. :^)
Kia ora Pete,
I guess thses ruminations on time are as good a place as any to wish you a Happy Birthday. Hope your day was splendid.
Cheers,
Robb
But what prompted this musing, Pete?
Robb, thanks! It was excellent. Great to catch up with you and Tara the other day, too :^)
Avus — a good question. I really don't know what prompted it, although if I remember correctly it was half dreamed. With few exceptions (like today!) I write first thing in the morning, and the day I wrote this post I think I was still remembering a remnant of some dream. Or, maybe I was thinking back to India as I sat there at the kitchen table; maybe I was wondering, "What now?" Whatever prompted it, I'm glad I've learned enough about writing to write down things like this. Cheers :^)
This is so beautiful, Pete!
Thank you, Lydia :^)
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