A thin sliver of moments is dedicated to the poignant. The truly sublime, the truly bittersweet, the excellently ephemeral. It seems to me that the poignant is related closely to something indescribably beautiful and temporary. It recognizes the driving necessity of losing the valuable when you're caught in the finite cage of space and time.
Finding beauty right as its expiration date approaches; losing something valuable only after you've discovered its value; even knowing that moments of beauty will pass as time gathers up the cards to be reshuffled.
But losing beauty doesn't mean that it has decayed; rather, it has vanished. Lost beauty does not mean destruction, but rather, perhaps, absence. It is this absence that pangs.
When is the last time you witnessed something beautiful, and felt tears prick your eyes? Was it an event, an act of courage, a piece of art, a rare occasion? Our lives will feel more full, more overflowing, more abundant, the more we choose to treasure the rare moments when beauty reveals itself to us, standing at the threshold of the infinite. A life worth living is a life worth observing. Our lives add to the universal mural depicting mankind's existence. But sometimes it is necessary to stand back and allow ourselves to remember that when it comes to the infinite, we are mere observers; we are limited in what we can evoke in people; we are infinite in what can be evoked in us.
Go, then, to fill your cup in the ever-running stream. Be free to form a castle from the sand. And live a life worth mourning when it passes.