In a world where it all seems borrowed
and time, like elusive dust, seems to just slip
through our fingers, all we really have are these
precious moments where we can make fertile
the soil in the garden of our hearts, that here
may love make its home and here the mortal
seed may flourish. Only love can free us
from the womb of time for life like a magnificent
cloud, holds its shape and form only long enough
for us to blink, and all our precious memories
are but shadows of time that will drift away like
fallen leaves returning to the emptiness from
which they came.
Thus we are, like innocent children flowering
in the garden of souls.
-Azam Ali