Monday, August 17, 2015

Fading

     As I look at the stars burning bright I think about how long it takes for their light to get to me, and how very small I must seem to a mountain standing so tall.  But if I am so small to everything how is it I can feel like a king?  If my life does not matter, then why does my heart often shatter?  If I am but dust to the sky why do I feel pain or cry?  If nothing knows I am here, why then must I experience fear?
     Stars go out but do not feel pain, falling doesn't hurt the rain, mountains fall but cannot make themselves raise again, and stars that race across the sky can't rejoice if they win.
     But why then do I feel less important than the sky?  Why am I the one who has to die?  I can feel joy, pain, strife, so why am I the one with a limited life?
     Maybe I am as important as the sky . . . after all; we both must cry.

3 comments:

  1. I really enjoyed that poem. Keep writing

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  2. Your writting inspires me to read more of your posts! They are beyound my words to describe..

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