Time is linear
when you come to realize that your moments spent
are organically withering away;
progressions which might retain the benefit of memory,
yet lapse in the conquering of the perpetuity of motion itself.
A sport spent in vain – truly –
evoking instances of specific recollection,
and presiding over those emotions felt, once…
And the atmosphere, now passed…
You judge what lies behind
to render a decision concerning its nature,
and perhaps reap the fruits of its trials,
only to find you have wound up
at another point in life, wistful,
and remembering:
Time is linear.