Time,
is like a river
with strong currents,
and I am a rock
between it.
I wonder if
I will find
pieces of myself
eroded away
through these years
scattered unto
streams and lakes
and finally the ocean.
How will I
ever remember if
a part of me
reaches the
blue waters?
How will I know if
my memory
floats unto the surface
splashed by the
passing ships?
And a piece of me
still remains
where it began,
right at the rivers
waiting to be
carried away time and again.
The Wordcastle 