Winds,

ebbs and flows of history

passing through fibers

in which we live;

Washed by weathered hands,

caressed by mothers’ love,

gripped by calloused labor.

A gentle reminder

along our path

that the past is present,

living amidst us

among every bend, drop and peak.

Like water,

seeping through soil

down mountains and in the walls

that we have surrounded ourselves with.

It flows onward

in waves,

illuminated only by the light

when struck by a memory.