Eternity Passes Away

Only movement persists.
This is always not this
But this, which is always
Not that but this, which is
Not this anymore. Past
And future are framed fakes,

And the frames are the fake.
Modest Heraclitus
Had everything moving,
When nothing also moves,
Every bit of rubble
Hanging in imbalance.

The real question is not
What's real but rather why
We want what's not, being
Incapable of calm
Without begging stillness,
Without craving stillness.