We are all flowers in the end,
meant to bend,
or break
and go dancing in the wind.

We are all particles of lights,
crashing against time
like waves crash against the shore.

We are all snowflakes in a storm,
fluttering flurries that will melt
when it gets warm.

We are stories, minor memories
that are fading,
fading, fading
still glowing,
but knowing
that the days of dimming
will come,
that we will run
straight into
me, you, and eternity,
into
me, you, and infinity.