Water drops drip, thud! in a bucket positioned to collect under  a crack caused by ice formed on the rooftop. It's a stark reminder, shelling the delusion that the shelters, which we've built to protect from the elements, are permanent. Eventually everything disappears, unrecognizable, subjected to  the past of our future. What we can do now is hold on tight. Grasp everything that comes our way, and never let go. Hold the moment tender. Remember what is enjoyed, as well as what you did not. Resistance to our hold should be acknowledged. Turn you head, shielding your gaze from your reluctant actions.