snowflakes in the sun

It is a moment like any other
the first-- the last, each
as we reach for breath, thought or cigarette
it comes, it passes

we are each part of a fantastic scene
a mosaic of billioned life, each segmented
into stopless action these moments

each in its own experience
unique snowflakes of existence
each in the cumulus cloud of life
 the old with the art of time
engraved upon their lamb soft skin
and the children who turn the pages
so much faster, see so much more and less
of the scenes and meaning, yet grow
warm and familiar in the light we teach
until they begin reach by volition,
pause the clocks others set, disdain the second bell,
when rebellions and volcanoes pour from their mouths
and they begin to teach the teachers

the eternal riddle of time:  that
each moment is a snowflake...
in the burning heat of the Sun.