Moments slip through our fingers, like sand in a hourglass.

Always leaving us, never to be relived, except in memories; those little pictures that run through our minds in passing.

Just fragments of the past, of longing and loss, anger and pain, self-loathing and love, happiness and peace.

But they are merely echoes, calling to us out of the oblivion of all we have done, and seen, and heard, and thought.

Moments we live are always become memories.

What you are experiencing in this moment will, in a second, become memories, blown away in the wind.

The wind of the infinity that is time.

Memories merely petals of eternity.