what destroys a Moment?
is it the end?
or the beginning of the next?
is there an in-between
which strikes shades of memories
into the heart of each experience to come?
the mind is tainted by its own past,
seeing only images of what it has already seen,
hearing only sounds it recognizes.
a past which haunts the present
brings new moments of disease.
what happens to the Bliss of an experience?
when does its freshness die?
ravaged into a known memory,
our Bliss becomes comparison, expectation, dependency,
a pleasure secured by thoughts
in the soil of the old.
how does that bliss return?
it cannot.
it can only Be.
what destroys a Moment?