Whispering Mistakenly

the river empties

into the gulf

and the gulf enters

the sea and so forth,

none of them

emptying anything,

all of them

carrying yesterday

forever on their

white-tipped backs,

all of them

dragging forward tomorrow.

it is the great circulation

of the earth's body,

like the blood

of the gods,

this river

in which the past

is always flowing.

every water

is the same water

coming round.

everyday someone

is standing on the edge

of this river,

staring into time,

whispering mistakenly:

only here, only now.

--lucille clifton