Westward Winds

There is not a grain of sand
That bears no imprint
Of yesterdays.
For, every dune has dissolved
In the embrace of the gale,
To reshape, and reform
To the fresh knoll,
Of golden hue.

But, why is that you and me
Bear no trace of yesterdays?
And where has the trail of past
Hidden itself?
Repulsing the path that got you and me here,
We build hummocks of today,
Not foreseeing,
That gale, rising from ashes,
Westward.