Prisoners of the present, slaves to linear time
Our five senses only know the now
Rushing us toward the unknowable future
Away from the past
Even the past beloved and cherished
Bereft, we’ve created our own friendly spirits
To conjure up the ghosts of Christmas past
Trapped like flies in digital amber
Our loved ones endlessly recreate moments that replace our memories
We cannot touch
Cannot speak
Cannot give the love that fills us to overflowing
And in the now
We can only show as tears
Saying the Quiet Parts Out Loud 