Then the bargaining came… It was a bit like trying to haggle at a market stall where the seller is utterly unmoved. I found myself trying to trade in the peaceful present for a few moments of the past. The irony is that life is the strictest of shopkeepers. It wouldn’t let me swap out today’s calm for yesterday’s storm.


In the stillness of the moment
my heart begins to wander,
to the loud, bustling market of the past,
it starts to ponder.
Trading today’s tranquility
for the storm of Before,
In this soundless dance,
I find myself once more.

Through the labyrinth of time, I drift,
reaching out,
holding onto fragments of past,
dispelling doubt.
I offer my peace at the counter,
hoping for an exchange,
for a few stolen moments
within memory’s range.

Each fragment of the past
in my hands I hold,
seeking solace in its story,
a tale to be told.
A distant laughter,
a hushed song,
a touch that’s now gone,
in this marketplace of fleeting moments,
my longing is drawn.

Old voices echo,
familiar silhouettes take stage,
a collage of smiles and faces begins to engage…
The past appears a sanctuary,
a haven from the Now;
in this negotiation with time,
the Present takes a bow.

But Life stands steadfast,
an unyielding guardian,
answering each plea with silence,
the exchange isn’t an easy bargain.
The Present,
it insists,
is the only thing I own,
amidst the echoes of the past,
it stands,
but not alone.

In the midst of this trade-off,
amidst the fragments of yesterday,
I realize the Present holds
its own unique array.
In my longing for what was,
the Now felt underrated,
Yet, in its soft consistency,
it holds what’s truly dated.

a futile negotiation
in the marketplace of time,
A fruitless barter for the echo
of a weathered chime.
Yet, in the longing and the loss,
a new truth finds its dawn,
the present,
unadorned and steadfast,
is far from worn.

Finding my way through yesterday’s passways,
I came to see,
the present,
not the past,
offers the real decree.

It takes the marketplace of fading echoes
to truly conceive,
that the present, not the past,
is the actual reprieve.
In the bargaining for yesteryears,
a truth surfaces with grace:
the worth of the present is priceless,
it needs no trace.
I found that Now,
in all its simplicity,
is of infinite sound.

(2021 © Julia Delaney)

Through the labyrinth of time

Be Alive 🌱
Love ❤️, Julia

A Journey Through Loss


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