fleeting moments pass me by
Like flying embers in the night
Come morning flame has turned to ash
Spread on a breeze across the sky.

When the clouds come home to mourn
droplets bring it back to earth
To soil and dust and riverbeds
Settling down to be reborn.

There is no loss on seasons’ trail
Nothing can escape this world
Forevermore, in sacred dance
All that is us shall yet prevail.

And yet, there is a sadness still
Grace is an ephemeral thing
The more we grasp, the less we hold
The more we pour, the more we spill.