Sands of time

The tide had gone out. Its history recorded in the wet sand. I walked gingerly on the ridges, aware of soft sand traps. I traced the ebb and flow of the water, now gone.
Our past lives on inside us. It has ridges, traps for the unwary. It warns us. It can paralyse us.
In Papua new Guinea, they say the past is in front of us and the future behind us. Makes sense as we know the past and guess the future.
So let our futures be a better place because we learn from our shared past.