The Same

Soon seems so far away,
or so it did yesterday.
Soon seems like a word
reserved for the absurd.

Never always knows
how to discourage those
who dream aloud,
those swallowed by the crowd.

Now’s already lost–at last
the present really is the past
the future’s never here,
reality is fear.

Never always tries
to destroy determined minds.
Never never keeps me down,
never will not see me drown.

Soon would be most ideal
if it were now, if it were real,
if it would listen to what I say
if it could carry me away.

Soon would be pleasant
if it were the present.
But soon, never, they drive me insane,
because soon and never are simply the same.


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