The present is entirely flexible,
it is yours to weave into gold.
Each moment stiches the soul,
to yet another archive in time's hole.
Admire the ant on your kitchen floor,
embrace the lizards on your walls.
Listen to the leaves rustle
and simply learn to take time out
to hear her sing her windy tunes,
and dance across the skies so blue;
to feel her touch below the shower
and taste the currents of her power;
behold her majesty in all her glory,
because time may tell different story.