The Little Things

My words like fleeting memories.

I talk so much about the words,
And where to find them,

I stay up late at night thinking over this,
Getting little sleep,
Feeling empty inside,
And I wonder how it got to this.

I see all the beauty around me,
Fleeting,
And soon replaced,
Like my memories.

How can I make sense of nonsense?
That's all it is.

Forrest Gump taught me,
Jenny, I don't know if Momma was right or if, if it's Lieutenant Dan. I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time.

I'm looking for meaning in the possible meaningless,
We're all searching through the sands of time to find treasure,
And we bottle that sand and we shelve it.

We may look back at that sand and regard it as the treasure we need to find,
But we keep digging,
We keep looking for that treasure,
When it was in front of us this whole time.

Appreciate the little things in life,
That's what we're all forgetting.