A scream of consciousness cuts through the quiet: This is today, isn’t it? The debris from yesterday continues to haunt, and the promises of tomorrow may or may not ring true, but today is here, right on time, to be shaped and formed now, to our pleasure and delight or to our weary horror — here and now, in any case, and ours to have and to hold.
This is today. With an ear for the echoes of yesterday and an eye for tomorrow, we hold today in our hands tightly, but not so tight that it can’t be free and not so loose that it slips away.
This is the day you can make a choice, and this is the day you control your choices. Yesterday’s choices are made, and tomorrow’s choices have not yet presented themselves.
Today, we can choose. Today, we choose. I choose … today. This day. This is.