One day you will come to know me but it won’t be by the telling of my story
Because while time is ever transitory in its purpose, marking the passage of precious moments, it can only be captured in past tense
And like a freeze frame photograph, my story exists only in the extinction of years gone by, never to be reborn
And while so many embrace their story as who they are and always will be, their presence may crack and fade like an old book long forgotten,
Its magic lying dormant on its pages unexpressed
And though a photograph can capture a memory, a moment of beauty, or emotion, or record a tragedy, it is still just a visual depiction of the past, never catching up with ever moving Time
It can’t capture the smell of a rose, or hear a baby’s laughter, or feel a loving caress
And as a photograph must be viewed to express, a book must be read, its story must be spoken to be known
And to be known by your story you must recount it over and over, polishing the dusty pages of a past faded by time
But it is my desire to live present tense
To express and experience love
To soothe away a baby’s cry
To see the laughter in my beloved’s eyes
To drink in the beauty of humanity’s blue, green, brown, and hazel eyes
To marvel at our rainbow shades of skin and the Divine beauty that’s held within
To share abundance with gratitude in helping a stranger
To be an instrument of peace by choosing love over anger
To cleanse my soul through the release of my tears
To live inside each note of a symphony
To dance joy with every molecule of my being
To speak future tense into being by the authority of my birthright
But only in this present tense of Now can I meet you soul to soul
and with the God in me see the glow of God in you
So as I stand here, naked to my soul, minus the tattered, layered clothing of past tense, I say to you
One day you will come to know me but it won’t be by the telling of my story
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