I am the last of a long procession of days, gone from you forever.
We have gone and cannot be retrieved any more than the same waters of the river repeat its journey a second time. We stream behind you, pouring into obscurity, and at last into the ocean of oblivion.
We carry off your burdens of defeat, your triumphs, bitterness, and laughter.
Yet as we go we each leave something in your mind and heart. If you know enough to put your feet upon us, you can rise rapidly, but when you let us ride over you, we strangle and smother you.
As you grow older we absorb your thoughts. You turn to us more and more, and less toward tomorrow. Tomorrows come unnoticed, todays slip by unheeded. More and more you become a creature of yesterday.
I am yesterday. Learn to look me in the face, to use me, and not be afraid of me. I am not your friend; I am your teacher and your judge.
Todays alone are yours; and tomorrows hold your encouragement.
We stand at the door of the past, welcoming the single file of days that will pass through, watching tomorrows becoming todays as they enter among us. I wish you well.
Collaboration between Shar and Anonymous
Author's Note: I did this to put in a calendar/journal I put together in 2006. Anonymous was printed in an Ideals magazine in 1956. It was cumbersome and confusing so I re-worked it. I liked the message.