The week has news which wounds
and time can seize on moments;
the inner life of frantic mind
occupies its own time.

And sometimes grooves are deep
and take us back to moments
where this was said and that was heard
and there we held on tightly.

Echoes shout when walls are here
with dull reverberation;
history says what history knows
and souls sing incompletely.

Yet we cannot cling too tight
to what resounds around us.
Time will pass and time will fade;
eternity sings wholly.

Drop these thoughts into the sea;
His current is your story.
What you hold now, now release;
unclench your frantic fingers.