What comes before,
What goes behind,
Precious moments
Out of time.
Where all we were,
Are, and will be,
Becomes the outwork
Of beloved dreams.
Nothing is as
It seems,
Except love which
Carries us between.
No time, other,
Bears such affinity
As the present given
To fill with living.
We, the blessed, are –
Love sharing life
In the material world,
Adding reason to why.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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