This Other One

Every moment is
Instantaneously
Irrevocable,
Irrecoverable
At its creation.

Most you don’t notice,
But the boring moments,
The uneventful ones,
Are as permanent
As the swerve and crash,

And your attention lags
Your own experience
So that anything
You’ve ever noticed
Was already sealed

In permanent past,
Including your own
Actions, however past.
Novelty
Within continuity

Is what it feels like,
And it’s all so fluid
But it’s done, already
Done, and this is done,
And then this other one.