This or that can be something of a smear
When definitions are not clear.
Midnight may erase a day, but time does not pause,
Nor the previous disappear.
I am not just the sum of someone else deposited
In today to be modified, transfigured
Out of happenstance. But as well
Consistencies of time and place flood, preset,
To collide and sculpt the available
Into keys to inevitabilities. Schrödinger may claim
This is an open-ended game but even probabilities
Are obedient to the possible.
The gifts or curses that crash through seem directed
By temporal afflictions out of addictions of personality.
We each are shaped to accept or deny
What might transmogrify our elusive reality.
We are more than simple summing
We are now and more.
We are becoming.