I'm sorry to tell you but the little things you treasure;
An old letter from an ancestor
A silver trinket
A memory
Will all
Crumble into dust
Tarnish into black
Fade into nothingness
So before all the years and months and weeks fly by
Detach yourself a bit from your clutch on these
small things.
Read the letter.
Play with the trinket
Enjoy the memory,
But all things must away and so
I urge you to live in the moment
Rejoice in the light of the present day
And shout for no other reason than your existance.
But heaven forbid,
I implore you otherwise,
Please do not say
YOLO.