Beware the one who clings to yesterday,
for she should never make the acquaintance of tomorrow.
Instead, honor the Keeper.
Who walks slowly and with empty hands,
always, and never, alone.
The whole of the world passes through her—
gaining life,
wisdom,
love,
and release.
She knows the oldest sorrow:
that nothing may be kept.
And holds the oldest joy:
that nothing true is ever lost.
Though none can hold a single moment,
with her alone,
it's truth remains forever.
For those who are eager to bury what has been,
time itself hastens toward forgetting.
While she bears the value that shaped them.
She carries what, together, they became.
And so kingdoms vanish.
And children grow old.
Lovers turn to tales.
The dead resolved into earth.
And with the river, they depart.
Of her company leave none unchanged.
Each life remains in essence,
each essence seeking its Keeper.
And on she walks,
her hands forever empty,
her heart forever full.