I saw an insect fly by as hell
a bird flew by to stop by a nearby branch
in a haste
only my eye can comprehend
then the wind played with the new shoots
of the birch
the pine
the oak.
As an spectator
a simple bystander
of the things that last longer than I
or what the eye receives
or computes say the scientists
We, say the voices,
return, endlessly
fleeting
is
yore
what now is here
yet is yester
now in the now or in the future
We yet to know.