There will come a time
when what we are doing now
will be more real
than what we will be doing then.
We will remember these trees
and they will live.
We will remember the sun on our skins
and our skins will be warm in the memory.
We will remember leaves,
bird songs, stones, water.
We will see them, hear them, feel them
as if time had run backwards
and we relive that moment
time has taken away.
Our memory will not allow time
to steal the intense brilliance
of that bright blue day.
We can return,
as pilgrims return to a holy place
and ache with the remembrance that
we have been there,
and be there once again.
1978