All things
have their meaning
and their place
in what we are to become.
The sound of a leaf
passing through the life
touched by our passing fingers
is yet to be remembered
in the sound as we pass.
It will be our sight
as we touch the dream,
when the time
unfolds
in the passing of our eyes,
which will be the memory
we once sought to lose.
It will be the sound
of our long forgotten
passage
through our time
which may awaken the meaning
we could no longer endure,
so left buried beneath
the sand
of a passing time.
All things are our beginning
in a new moment,
a new future,
a different past.
The present unfolds
in the silent
whisper
of what we are to become
should we open our eyes
and see our passage in this world.
For that which we touch
in our passing
becomes
a part of our memory,
waiting to return
when the time is fulfilled,
and we are in need
of remembering.