The Passing

I met Eternity this afternoon.
He was dressed in a Bach Prelude,
An old and weary, melancholy figure,
So I thought.
But in a flash of time I realized
I was the old one, with my long twenty-one years.
I am bent over with burden,
Longing for an ageless song,
A never-ending prelude to nothing,
A swelling current of timeless reality.
O Eternity take me, too.
Do not pass me on the street.