Every moment in time
is delicate
ready to shatter
Every moment in time
is soon lost
and seldom found
I live in a moth-built cocoon
moss in my ears
deluded into thinking
I will soon be the butterfly
I once was
But in this life
it will never be
unless the ocean
loses its argument
against the land
Unless the moon
says no more
to the sun
So in that spirit I hold out my hands
for the next blessing
receive it dutifully
and with a gratitude deeper than music
Here to chime
until my time
like bells in the wind.