They Come They Go Poem by vidyut chakraborty

The Sojourners pass by forget the past,
the aroma they left behind effuses their memory
to the people they smiled at, chat with, shred dust.
Forgetfulness is blessing- they say,
Yet some hearts bleed for those
who forget their given up past.
Flowers blossom and wither in time,
from a birth to the death,
All living things leave a history.
But there are Sun and Moon
never tired by their continuity,
Above all we all have to be confined in a mystery.