The one who lives in mem’ries past
Will stumble through the day;
And never see the clear blue sky
Less marred by ghosts so grey.
The one who dreams of days to come
Is bound to nought do much;
For locked in sights so perfect, he
Lets time slip through his clutch.
And yet, the one whose feet are firm,
Who strikes at irons so hot,
Will lose his hope, his sense of self
His purpose not given a thought
For only fools will think they can
Survive with only one “time”
Without the mem’ries, the dreams, the now,
And live with nought reason nor rhyme.