Wishing

This time doesn’t settle it.
This time never does. The thing
About being young was thought

About a slow hour felt not
Incredibly valuable
So much as pleasant enough.

Later times would settle things,
Thought thought. For now, this now’s nice.
The temptation of aging’s

Encroaching decrepitude
Is to think this time must mean
Something now, must settle things

Within itself, since little
Time’s left. Funny reasoning.
There was never any time

Left, except experience,
Which could stop any second
Or not. If you’re here, then not.

If you’re not here, then no less
Not. If you’re young you’re aging.
If you’re old and still here, well.

Nothing will be settled now.
This moment’s not important.
Do you like this moment? Well.