Phenomenology

Be invisible all you moments
Through whom I lived
               (The old gent slipping on the ice)
Your image is burned, even spliced
From your surrounding context;
The aperture is tight on you
I would broaden the gaze!

Be bright you stolen moments
Let me see all your apparent
Wonder. I wander closely to
Your potentialities. Lost, unborn
Flickering frames who sit
Beyond my FOV.

Time’s lens occludes you too,
stolen moments—Where are you
then? How can a moment be
lost by absence? Can I
lose a friend I never met?
Stolen by time’s narrow bandwidth.

Grant me all the moments
my thinly stretched band can
contain. I covet all this
and all that. My hope
-- my imagination – has
volume beyond capacity.
Through living I cast my net.

Each moment as it is lived
is burned on the medium:
Every other is lost. I scrape
the cutting room floor.
But what is not captured
was never cut.

So, I resign you—weary lens—
do what you are meant.
Capture all you can.
Leave the rest to the
Loving Nothing. His grasp
is fathomless. He is the thief.