David Jon Foster Art
	The Time Pilot in { Nothing of the Now }
Fresh auburn sun and I its ghost, of days past I play the host Waiting for, the past’s return, save the lamb, let me learn angels brought, to me the wine, of the king, till end of mine slowly swallow, sip and taste, earth on my tongue, the gift a waste I remember when, how it was, beautiful, bits and pieces, still nothing of the now…and fly back home again.
	Copyright © 2007 David Jon Foster All Rights Reserved

Precious it is, yes I know, logic dictates the same, and on occasion I can remember.  I remember when, just
how it was…, beautiful…, some small bits and fragile pieces fall back to me,  when I, …when I,  fly.
                Flashing back I grab at them like fleeting butterflies as I stare across the empty fields.  Starlight
memories some of them caught in the moment if I get lucky,  The wings open and close in my hand.  To feel
the little ones breath and stare up at me for a moment.                  
                Living, breathing, the end was so far away, joyful ignorance the youthful gift and it was all still
yet to be.  The mountains, green valleys of the past and the butterfly drift away again.  For a moment I
remembered. But still nothing of the now I say, peal my eyes, and walk away, nothing of the now that is all
that is, so sad  really to waste this precious it is, to be regretted someday im sure , I couldn’t  find the key.