The past, a glacier, gripped the mountain wall, <br />And time was inches, dark was all. <br />But here it scales the end of the range, <br />The dialectic's point of change, <br />Crashes in light and minutes to its fall. <br /> <br />Time present is a cataract whose force <br />Breaks down the banks even at its source <br />And history forming in our hands <br />Not plasticine but roaring sands, <br />Yet we must swing it to its final course. <br /> <br />The intersecting lines that cross both ways, <br />Time future, has no image in space, <br />Crooked as the road that we must tread, <br />Straight as our bullets fly ahead. <br />We are the future. The last fight let us face.<br /><br />Rupert John Cornford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/full-moon-at-tierz-before-the-storming-of-huesca/
