For those days.
We feel in waves.
At times, they lap at the shores of our heart, cool and calm, manageable.
At others, they crash loudly, roaring and pounding down upon us, threatening as they do any semblance of structure we may have erected.
Drawn by the weight of distant spheres, tides rise and fall, then settle again.
A hum.
Here, tempests turn and elsewhere, a warm breeze tugs ever so gently at the loosened seeds on the head of a dandelion.
Terror, at what might be lost: all we know.
Our edges are so thin.
We hover, only moments apart, yet, those moments come and go so quickly, passing and blending together into a stream of fine grains, impossible at times to observe clearly.
When we sit, breathe, think, returning to the present, we can catch a glimpse.
Then it is gone.
To find calm, in times when the currents are stable as well when they are distressed: contentment.
Oh, how we try, and fail, and try again. How often we mourn the moments passed, the choices made, choosing as we do to forego the choice that lies before us now.
May we continue to apply what we have learned, knowing that we are still learning even as we do.
May we not forget, that all ends have a beginning, and all beginnings lead to an end.
May we acknowledge our shortcomings, equally with our achievements, building on each, aware as such that neither is without flaws and both are destined to die just the same.
We feel in waves.
Objects, and the Distance Between Them 