What can be made from these moments? We have held each of these moments in our hands before gently placing each one down on the slowly flowing river of time and watched each one sail off down the river of memory; leaving us on the shore of now, watching as each one fades from sight as it makes its way down towards the sea of forgetfulness, to be swept away by the tides of history.
There are times when it is possible to believe that you could be the one who places some rock of importance in the river of time that the river will have to flow around; something caught in the river of time that everyone will know, see and have to acknowledge. The more you walk these riverbanks though, the more you realise how few of those rocks and stones there are, and how the river flows on, no matter who or what tries to divert it from its course.
There comes a time when you realise that you are not one of those whose achievements will break the surface of the river of time like those rocks placed there by people of genius, wisdom, or understanding, or those that attempted to dam or divert the river to bring about some new time of their own.
No, you are just here on the bank placing one small paper boat after another into the streaming time, watching as each one disappears around the bend of the river never to be seen again.
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