you are suddenly here.
you were not here before.
and even that is in itself a contradiction:
was there ever, a before?
has there ever been one? and if so,
there will be, a later. with such things ahead,
and behind you,
things that have never been, here, by their very nature,
what would, here, be?
what is, now, if you didn’t know what it was,
or what it will become?
you are suddenly here,
and it doesn’t come as a surprise.
it would be better if it did.
you are suddenly here because you were somewhere else,
not necessarily, there, in relation to, here
but a place other than what is before you now.
you are here suddenly and you are moving
to not be other than, here, knowing
you can never go back:
you are suddenly here and it doesn’t come as a surprise.
immediately after you are here, you no longer are;
you have moved to somewhere else.
things have grown, twisted themselves slightly,
new things have emerged and others have disappeared.
you do not keep track of the flux and fluxuations,
you have moved again, but you are continually moving,
even when you are standing still, so you are moving, always.
you were here, even though, you are always on the move
and never quite, here, for too long, even though,
you suddenly had been.
at some point, at some unknown but accumulated time,
you will no longer be here and it will be just as it was
before: a surprise.
it will not be as arbitrary as your arrival;
there exists the chance you will have regrets
but also the chance that you will not want to leave.
most probably, however, it will be of the such
that you will not even know its characteristics
and you will no longer be, here, or elsewhere.
you will suddenly be gone
and perhaps all the more better for not knowing:
you are no longer, here, any longer, suddenly,
just as you came.