Like Dust

Walking down that road, we will see what we can find when suddenly turning a corner to discover a new day before us. Here we are then, doing the same thing we do every morning and wondering how it can be made different, how can something new grow from these old stories?

They are old tales, old when this world was young. People like us have lived lives like this from before history began. We live, we grow old and we die, almost forgotten, and then are forgotten as memories die after us.

Our moment is here, and then it is gone like a cloud passing before the sun, like a leaf floating down the stream, like something brittle crushed in the palm of the hand and then left to scatter like dust on the breeze.