One Moment

there is not the thinking only
the doing, the getting up, the work,
the feeling of passing through a mist
that clings only briefly,
whithers and vanishes

there is only the day upon
day finding, upon waking, the path,
through the maze of opportunity circumscribed
that feels only briefly of
resentment and regret

there is only the moment passing,
falling behind the next, and the next,
laying itself down in sacrifice,
and remembered only briefly.
tragic and gracefull