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These Instants Become Crystals[1]

If over the Years there came a Moment somebody Glanced

And thought it Perfect as it was – that Moment passed me by[2]

Each Moment is Not Fragile and Fleeting as I once thought – each

Moment is Hard and Lasting and so holds much that I must Mourn for[3]

Little Minutes – Humble though they Be – make the Mighty Ages of Eternity[4]

Our Talk is of Heres and Nows, our Conduct likewise: in no act is any Future, any Past[5]

Each Moment irresistibly Transforms us – Breaking us Open each Time Anew[6]

Time – which a few Minutes ago felt Excruciatingly Compressed – Broadens[7]

Although it is only for a Moment, it Exists, Exists – this alone is Enough[8]

Here we are Trapped in Amber of this Moment – there is no Why[9]

We Live for Now– and what we call the Eternities[10]

[1] Robert Bly, Driving Through Minnesota During the Hanoi Bombings

[2] Katharine Coles, Between the Lines

[3] Jamaica Kincaid, At the Bottom of the River

[4] Julia A. Fletcher, Little Things

[5] Edna St. Vincent Millay, Theme and Variations

[6] Anna Gurton-Wachter, Afterward to Utopia Pipe Dream Memory

[7] Jenny Xie, Restoration in the Attention Economy

[8] Circe Maia tr. Jesse Lee Kercheval, The Bridge

[9] Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

[10] H.G. Wells, The Croquet Player

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