Change

Change

The nature of change is that the handful of sand you now hold
Will slip through your fingers,
To swirl with the dust on the floor
Until the broom of tomorrow comes and sweeps it all away
To where a mischievious breeze delights in stealing it and scattering it as far as it can,
And then the sky will put a finger to its lips and say 'hush',
So the breeze will fall silent and the sand will slip again,
Into someone else's life
The nature of change is that the rain will never climb back into the clouds
And the spilled wine will never return itself to the cup,
Nor will the feather find the bird it fell from
But the nature of change is that
Nothing bad that ever visits you
Will get to stay forever

The River by the Wood

The River by the Wood

Inconvenient Times

Inconvenient Times