Hard rock in the fist
crumbles, slip through
between the fingers,
gentle wave moves in,
lift spirit in realization
of the trivia.
A bit of wisdom blooms
in the dark,
reaches out for what’s lost,
what’s needed,
take a side glance at
the meteoroids
searching for new in space,
leaving memories behind.
Wave them transitory farewell.
With a smile greet
the ones returning to mingle.

By Byung A. Fallgren