Poem: The Natural Order of Things

So many grains of sand
slip through as the moons turn
and the tides rise and fall
but there will always be more.

As long as there is one pen
that scratches words on paper
no one will forget even if
memories shimmer and fade.

As long as there is one brush
that captures color on canvas
no one will deny even if
voices are muted and soft.

So many dreams in clouds
form and dissipate in smoke
and fires rage and burn
but they will never be gone.