Every moment. Here. Gone.
Days. Years. Strong and enduring.
Yet impossible to hold onto.
Like trying to capture a sunbeam
or dandelion fluff.
Moments pass through our fingertips.
Figments for the future to discover.
To build on.
To make their own.
To rewrite.
As I turn to dust and into dandelions
and sunbeams.
learning to fly 