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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas #935201 added May 24, 2018 at 3:21pm
Restrictions: None
Known to Unknown…
Prompt: Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it is called the present. Write anything you want about this.
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Well, there is a plant with the name Yesterday Today and Tomorrow, which is a shrub or a small tree native to the Brazilian rainforests that blossoms late into the season. The plant has fragrant two-inch blossoms that change color with each day and each blossom lasts three days.
Just like this plant, time also changes its colors as we live through it. To me, it doesn’t mean that any of the three days or what they each represent is any better than the others. History is important because we can learn from it. We can learn from it what to do and what to avoid doing. Mystery is important, too, because a hope for the better is instilled in it. Today is a gift because it is where our action and focus must be; it is where we make history to go forward to mystery. It is important because in it we show if we have learned our lessons from the history so we can create a hopeful tomorrow.
Although most anyone would interpret this saying as yesterday and tomorrow are not important but today is, I believe all three are just as important. They are equally important because they show how well or poorly we manage our time, as time is a being in its own right, conceptual though it may be, just as the humans and plants are beings, too; but then, neither plants and humans nor time are permanent beings, letting this string of thought slide toward the utmost importance of what or who is the permanent one.
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