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Knee deep in History you say, This Place where all That have been Before, Shoulder high, Would reach the Sky. History is Time passed, Where each passing year, Each day, Each very second, Can be an Eon. Imagine "I wish This Moment could last forever", But then this Instant would never Turn to History, This Instant of Glory, For who else, what else, Could add the depth of feeling Where the Sky, no longer ceiling, Would glow? History, then, Is Time that once was stopped, Time cropped, Now stretched long Behind Where, somewhere, Somewhere along this Ever Ticking Space, This Very Moment happened. This Historical Instant Born. |