The Drift

Water remembers nothing, yet carries everything— stones polished smooth by forgetting, branches that never learned to root.

I watched a moment dissolve like sugar in the current, sweet and inevitable, the way all small things surrender to motion.

Your face in the morning light was a leaf I refused to release, but the river had other ideas— it wanted me downstream, wanted me light, wanted me gone.

Time is not a line but a spiral of forgetting, each loop bringing us closer to the place we began, transformed and transparent.