As I pen these thoughts,
is the weight of history shifting
like the swaying of the pines?
If time is a construct,
an invention of my mind, attempting
to grasp the meaning of nothing and infinity,
can a new experience point backward in time,
giving fresh meaning to a past event,
like sunrise illuminating the shadows?
If that event changes my heart
with a new perspective,
isn’t that time travel—rewriting my story?
Can a different view today
influence my choices tomorrow,
like daffodils nudging away the chill of winter?
If I follow a different path,
shaped by a changed heart,
is it the past that alters the future?
Is it possible that by writing,
and by you reading this poem,
the path of our lives has already shifted?
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge day 30/365.
Image created by AI.
Desert Dweller 
Leave a comment