in constant motion
When I think of seasons passing by,
My mind goes to puffy white clouds, drifting across the blue sky,
Giving us momentary relief as they still for a while,
Only to disappear, not to be seen again for miles.
These clouds never seem to stay put in one place,
They're constantly shifting, changing their pace,
But when I look at the colors of the horizon, fading into one another, time and time again,
I feel a glaring truth in my brain:I feel a glaring truth in my brain:
The seasons will change and so will we,
Everything is temporary.