Through the years; each one different, each one changing the picture, each one bringing that small piece of life that was rendered before, and again, and over a second, third, fourth and fiftieth time, to the new place called today.
The past, for all its glory and great times, for binges of those things that might of been called evil, if lined out in waking must, and for the quiet bands of goodness laid down beneath the feet of those who knew it was there, we can only have the best.
The future holds the laden mystery, offset by knowing what to do, if we can, by knowing that this feeling would be upon us, if we had thought of it enough, by feeling the ravage of sympathies for those around us known to many, and those only known to our souls. Each day will start afresh, each night can end so differently than thought.
The present is but a second, between what was and might of been, and what will and what may be.
Some say live only in the moment of the particular day and hour, others may say live out and improve your past, and some say claim the mysterious beginnings of all that lies ahead.
Your life is just beginning when you wake.
Ralph Peck
Photography by David Maxey
Northeast Oklahoma
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