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Secrets buried in the sand hold
hidden memories of lives gone by.
Unearthed remains tell a story.
Dug up pottery paint a picture.
Lives in the past merge with the future.
Differences become insignificant.
Time becomes transient.
The cycle begins again.
Days flow into weeks.
Weeks into years.
Years to centuries.
Centuries fly by.
Nothing is new.
The cycle continues.
Our past becomes our future.
Until the sands of time bury our existence.
Then our future becomes our past.
And the cycle begins again.
Love ya!
Jane
But I also taste the salty sea.
Thank you for this moment in time!
Blessings, John Michael
Ron
Seconds metamorphose into eternity when all is said and done.