"When love is felt or fear is known;
when holidays and holy days and such times come;
when anniversaries arrive by calendar or consciousness;
when seasons come — as seasons do — old and known, but somehow new;
when lives are born or people die;
when something sacred is sensed in soil or sky; mark the time.
Respond with thought or prayer or smile or grief.
Let nothing living slip between the fingers of your mind,
for all of these are holy things we will not, cannot, find again.”

 
Max A. Coots

Thank you for sharing this poem. It's truly beautiful.