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You can’t stop the sun from rising
nor the waxing and waning of the moon;
nor can you stop the stars from blinking.
You can’t stop lightning from flashing
nor can you stop thunder from roaring;
neither can you un-ring and rung bell.
Ever wonder if an echo can be stopped
once reflected into the ever-moving wind—
blowing with its own as well as other echoes?
And is it not also a wonder that wherever we go
we tend to leave some kind of footprint; even if
only scented footprints that could be followed?
Contemplating further, it can be realized
that the inked poetic word can be likened
unto that of echoing footprints for the eyes.
With respect to life, there is an old axiom
that reminds us that while workers will die,
the work they were committed to will go on.
Likewise, it is with the poet and poetry:-
Poets will die but the inked poetic word
left behind will be as echoing footprints.
