In every moment, there’s purity, it’s hardly felt
When there is no silence, of the mind
Each moment has only one chance to shine
In the spotlight, but it is stolen by marauding thoughts
From the ghetto of memory, or from the ones
That paint the sky blue, with artificial ink
Promising to erase any accumulated pain
This moment could be as vast as the universe
Instead it is a tiny sliver between two imaginary boulders
The past and the future, which dominate the landscape
There is hope, of prising open the moment
Letting it be, in its pristine and untainted state
