It has gone

It has gone, the flowing moment,

crashing beyond our gleaning.

Tumbled white-water;

the turbulent tumult and torment,

the urgent tyranny

of the passing instant.

It has gone, the relentless moment,

swept from our grasp.

Journeying into another present,

an elsewhere essence

of another reality,

it leaves only the echo

of its passing

in the ear of a voyeur.

But it speaks, this passing moment,

of the regret

of missed opportunity

and unworded season.