All but a trace

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I liked to think that everything was alright
That nothing was lost or could be forgotten
That these things stay in sight – I hoped it from the bottom

But my brain plays tricks with me
It has this tendency
To twist and change – to make things strange

For we all must remember where we came from
And where we belong
To the dust of the space
That we’re all but a trace

We set out to ask from the tasks
To question the questions
From all that left marks
All that is in session

That we remembered so lightly
And felt somewhat special
Became so slightly
Became but a shell