Nearly all reaction around us is change;
happening every second or two;
the future and present make an exchange;
present becomes the past in view.
Reality; a landscape; ever changing;
each backdrop on life’s stage is new;
scenery around us is rearranging;
for the old stage will never do.
Actors and plays; it’s never the same;
older ones retire; and then die;
it’s merely attrition; no one’s to blame;
on such changes, we all can rely.
Familys erased by the plague of time;
new ones grow up in their place;
others bring their own ladders to climb;
for the “top” has it’s very own space.
Why can’t things simply remain the same;
can’t the present simply grow old?
Somewhere, there’s someone to blame;
an author of time, to scold.
If tomorrow has now become today;
and the future is now further on;
and today moved on to be yesterday;
then how can yesterday be gone?
How can creation come about by a word;
in what way did the Master shout;
some of it all, seems more than absurd;
can you tell me how change came about?