Unclench

Let us not clutch
To the yesterdays of our lives
Dispense with all the rubbish left over
After squeezing the positive dry.

Cold
Is akin
To the Present that has past
Distinguishing the potential
Of the next
As warm, in texture.

Choose
Not to swim
The pneumatic swirls of the gone too long
For, the phobia of cementing
Into the cold
Can freeze even the bravest lion heart.

What is now
And what you can make of the nows to come
Should be the only interference in the pond of your imagination
Delve into the past
Only for inspiration
Of its all encompassing teaching
And battle on
In the forest of the unknown
Lap the shores
Of what is to come..

Unclench
The fear.