With these touches
we try to build
an edifice and a structure.
A frame
for our moments
and our memories.
But it all withers away
before the constant winds
of change.
Who are you,
what
were you?
A momentary configuration
in the ever shifting sands
of the implacable.
Are you the river stepped in,
or the passing form that stepped
into the river for a moment?
In the ever erasing
and renewing of existence,
we are lost.
gallagher
18Oct22
– on our return from Europe