In Which I Make Peace with the World

I am where the present moment has brought me
And it hasn't brought me anywhere.

I am not nowhere, but this will not last.
The present cannot keep itself --
The moment won't endure.

I, too, will not endure, unless the thinking mind
Which grasps the truth, clings fast to that eternal thing.

But sense will perish. Sense will perish -- still
It has some meaning. But the meaning of sense
Is the present upon which it stands

No firm foundation, that, but enough of substance
To feel and breathe and think and move.